


Rule No. 32: Enjoy the Little Things

by missbenzedrine



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Badass bill, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Crossover, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, Minor Character Death, Not for the faint of heart, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie-Killing Pro Richie, Zombieland (2009) References, Zombieland/IT Crossover, a little bit of something for everyone, but I wrote it anyway, no one asked for this, there will probably be smut at some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-08 03:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21229238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbenzedrine/pseuds/missbenzedrine
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak was doing just fine in Zombieland all by himself. In fact, that was how he liked it best. So when he manages to get tangled up with a badass, rough-around-the-edges zombie slayer, a trashmouthed asshole with an annoyingly attractive smirk, and a girl who knows her way around a gun better than Annie Oakley, well, quite honestly, he doesn't really know whether to stay or run for the hills._____Or, a Zombieland/IT Crossover, because it was definitely needed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this is just a pretty stupid thing I wrote up over the last couple of days because I rewatched Zombieland, and couldn't get the idea of Richie as a badass post-apocalyptic zombie killer out of my head. and I just thought that Eddie would make a great Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg) in that movie, so here it is. 
> 
> it'll probably be like 2 or 3 parts? depending on how carried away I get with it 
> 
> if you've seen the movie, most of this first chapter is almost identical to the plot in the film (what can I say, lazy writing, *shrug*) but if I end up doing what I plan on, it'll diverge in the second part 
> 
> I'm not great at writing action scenes, so those suck. but even so, if you're not a fan of violence, then it's probably not great for you? but then again, if you're reading this you're an IT fan, so I don't see it being a problem lol 
> 
> so anyway please enjoy this fun little crossover drabble :D

_Rule no. 29. Trust no one. _

That was a newer one, which had made itself apparently necessary a few weeks back, in a particularly scarring encounter with a girl on a motorcycle, a cheese knife, and a zombie who had clearly had one too many Big Macs back in the day. Yeah, no. Best not to trust too much here in Zombieland.

Which was exactly what Eddie was thinking as the black SUV came barreling up to him, tires screeching as it swung around on the highway, spewing debris and what-have-you everywhere in its wake. Across the side of the car was the word ‘_SILVER’_painted in bold, white lettering.

He stood behind a deserted motorcycle, fumbling for his shotgun and shells as the door opened, revealing a tall, lean man not much older than himself dressed in a denim jacket and cowboy boots. He held himself with an intangible elegance, his facial expression authoritative and knowing. Eddie felt subordinate just being in this dude’s presence. He wasn’t fond of the feeling. He managed to get the gun locked and loaded, training it straight at the other man just as he got his out without a hitch, pointing it at Eddie.

Though they were on a highway in the middle of Dallas, Texas, they were the only living souls around. _Living _was an important distinction there. Not that the so-called zombies weren’t actually living. As far as he knew, they weren’t exactly undead as you might see in a horror movie or read about in a sci-fi comic, but instead, they were just diseased. To a point where Eddie just preferred to think of them as dead. It was easier that way. Easier to kill them, that is. That was another rule. _No. 5: No mercy for Zombies. _He’d figured that one out pretty quickly. Always kill on sight. Sure, it got rocky when you saw a six-year-old girl in a princess costume coming at you mottled greenish skin, blood and human flesh dripping out of her mouth, but these weren’t people anymore. You couldn’t think of them that way. That was the easiest way to get yourself killed.

Real, living, breathing, healthy people, though, they were different. You couldn’t just go around shooting people, after all. His mother taught him slightly better than that.

He stared across the empty space between them, meeting the gaze of the other man. Stranded cars littered the space, doors open, some lying on their sides or completely flipped over. Things had gotten pretty rough there at the end. Pretty fucking gory. He quickly tried to assess his chances of running and surviving. Being able to make it to a car before this guy shot him in the leg or something. Slim to none.

On the other hand, maybe this guy could help him. Eddie had lost his car a few days back, and having a companion with one might not be the worst thing for him. In fact, it might just save his life.

Slowly, cautiously, he lowered his weapon and lifted a thumb hitchhiker style. The other guy watched him, flinching at the sudden movement from Eddie, but not moving otherwise. After a moment, he brought his own gun down and nodded.

_Thank fuck. _

He quickly walked around and climbed into the man’s passenger seat, immediately noticing that the car smelled like smoke. Fuck. He could already feel an asthma attack coming on.

“Thank you,” he said as he buckled in, quickly checking the backseat for any stowaways (_Rule No. 31. Check the Backseat). _It was littered with empty food wrappers, cigarette cartons and, well, lots of guns. Like, a shit load of firepower. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad he was in prepared hands or terrified that he was in the car of a lunatic. No zombies though.

“You lookin’ for somethin’?” the man asked him, starting the car and driving slowly down the road. Slow only because you had to dodge all the isolated vehicles. Otherwise, Eddie got the feeling this guy wouldn’t be a five star Uber driver.

“No. I just…have these rules,” Eddie told him, shrugging.

“Rules?”

“Yeah, like always check the backseat. Buckle up, whatever. You have to have a system out here if you want to stay alive.”

“Oh yeah? Well, my system is killin’ zombies. Works pretty fuckin’ well for me.”

Eddie gave a nervous laugh, trying not to look too uncomfortable.

“Where are you headed?”

“Out east,” Eddie responded. He hadn’t really been sure where _exactly _he was headed for a long time now. He was from Maine, but he hadn’t spoken to his mother, the only real family he had, in years. Now she was probably dead, so he didn’t really have any plans to speak of. But hey, you had to keep moving (_Rule No. 13)._

“Specific,” the man countered. “I’m headed for New York myself. So we’ll see how far we can get along.”

“Okay, great,” Eddie said, nodding eagerly. He was honestly just grateful to be in a car, even if his throat was tightening from the lingering smell of smoke. He’d been walking for days and getting off of his feet was the best thing he could ask for. “By the way, I’m Ed—”

“_Woah _there,” the man cut him off abruptly. “You new to Zombieland, shortstack? You don’t give someone your real name. Too risky. Too much information. I don’t need to know who you are or _were _depending on how you see things. This is no man’s land out here.”

Eddie had associated with a total of one individual person since the madness that was the plague struck—a girl who had called herself _Pussycat_. Which, if he were being honest with himself, suddenly made a lot more sense. No wonder she’d laughed when he introduced himself.

“You can call me Stutter,” the man—_Stutter, _told him.

“_Stutter_?” What the fuck kind of name was that?

“Yeah, did I fucking stutter?” he asked, his voice harsh, but Eddie happened to catch his half-smirk. “Better to own your demons than let them get the best of ya. So what can I call you, shortstack?”

“Well definitely not shortstack,” Eddie told him with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t…I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it,” he told him honestly, running through potential names in his head, coming up short. He rolled down his window slightly to try and let in some fresh air, calm his nerves, breathing in deeply. After a second, he unzipped the fanny pack that he had strapped to his waist and pulled out his inhaler. Luckily, almost any pharmacy he happened upon had inhalers that hadn’t been picked up before shit hit the fan. And sure, maybe it was just for comfort, but sometimes comfort was the most important thing of all.

“You okay there, Spritz?” Stutter asked him, and Eddie looked over, an eyebrow raised. “How’s that? I’ll call you Spritz?”

“Yeah…that’s fine, I guess,” Eddie responded and then fell quiet, stuffing his inhaler back in the pack, watching the trees pass by the window. 

* * *

There were two main reasons that Eddie Kaspbrak had managed to survive the zombie apocalypse up until this point:

  1. He had a very strict set of rules that he followed to a T. No exceptions. You didn’t fuck around with fate when there were man-eating zombies on the loose.

And…

  1. Even before people got a hankering for human brains for breakfast, he’d always been a bit of a shut-in. See, people carried disease, and if there was one thing Eddie was good at, it was avoiding disease like the fucking plague (pun fully intended). So Eddie just avoided people. It was that simple. Honestly.

When it came down to it, it really wasn’t that difficult for Eddie to avoid becoming a zombie Happy Meal, because he was systematic to a fault. And quite honestly, sometimes he felt like the zombies were even easier to deal with than real people. Because zombies were predictable. They cared about one thing and one thing only: eating. And they did whatever they needed to do to accomplish that goal. Their behavior wasn’t ridden with exceptions and complications. They were pretty fucking one-dimensional, and there was something in the simplicity of that that Eddie could respect, perhaps in a really fucked up way.

Eddie’s relationship with real, sentient human beings had been a difficult one his whole life, fraught with anxiety attacks and phobias to boot. Raised by a hypochondriac agoraphobic of a woman, he hadn’t really stood much of a chance at being a normal, well-adjusted guy. The fact of the matter was, people in general were dangerous, and not just in the carrying disease, germy kind of a way either (though that was a serious consideration). Other people were the best way to get hurt, physically or emotionally, so why bother with them at all? He enjoyed his own company far more most of the time anyway.

“So, Spritz, you got family you’re looking for out there?” Stutter asked him, breaking what had been a rather pleasant fifteen minutes or so of silence.

“Me? Oh, no. Probably not. It was just my mom. I’m sure she’s long gone by now.” He’d imagined it enough times. She probably wouldn’t be able to get herself out of the house with everything going on, terrified literally to death by the prospect of being eaten alive. The only real question was whether she was dead or zombified. That was the part Eddie would rather not think about.

Stutter gave an affirmative harrumph, and stared straight ahead. “So what are you heading toward anyway?”

Eddie thought for a moment. “Safety, I guess? I heard there’s a place out east that’s untouched by all of this.”

“Out west they hear it’s out east. Out east they hear it’s out west,” Stutter said slowly, shaking his head. “All just hearsay. But I guess there’s no harm in trying.”

It was at that moment that Stutter rolled the car to a stop as Eddie watched his face turn to one of sick satisfaction, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Ooooh-hoo hoo. Look at this one,” Stutter whistled, and Eddie turned his face to do just that. In front of their car, there was a particularly morbid looking female zombie, chowing down on what seemed to be a fresh kill.

Eddie made a face. “It’s fucking sad, isn’t it? I mean, there’s really nothing more depressing than literally watching the fall of humanity before your eyes,” he rambled, shaking his head with a tut of his tongue. “It just makes you—”

“Hungry?” Stutter said, and Eddie looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. “Alright, you stay here, I’ll take care of this bitch,” he said. He dug around in the backseat for a minute before pulling out a chainsaw. Eddie watched in awe as he stepped out and revved the saw’s engine, literally howling as he walked toward the zombie, with a determination that Eddie almost admired. And well, then he looked away. He’d killed quite a few zombies himself, sure. You didn’t make it this far without, but he’d never had a strong stomach.

* * *

After forty-eight hours on the road with Stutter, Eddie was starting to believe he had made a fairly decent decision coming along with this guy.

While everyone disliked zombies, for obvious reasons, Stutter slaughtered them like he had something to prove, like he had a very personal vendetta to fulfill. And maybe he did. Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to ask a bunch of personal questions, and Stutter didn’t seem to be offering up any deep dark secrets anytime soon. No, in fact, Eddie had kind of taken a liking to their utilitarian style partnership.

And he had a feeling that Stutter didn’t mind it too much either, after he’d proven himself with a gun during their first full day together, after sleeping in Stutter’s SUV, Eddie sprawled out on the backseat and the other man in the cargo hold in the back.

They’d stopped off at the side of the road somewhere near the Louisiana state line when Eddie had needed to use the restroom. He never used real bathrooms (Rule No. 3: Beware of Bathrooms), so a ditch on the side of the road would have to do most of the time. Stutter had stepped out of the car to take a smoke, and Eddie had just been about to piss when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He’d swung his gun over his shoulder and shot the thing right between the eyes just as it was about to take a chunk out of Stutter’s right angle, dragging itself along the ground in a trail of its own blood.

“Holy f-f-fuck!” Stutter got out, swinging around at the sound of the gun.

Eddie walked briskly over and shot the Z a second time for good measure (Rule No. 2: Double Tap). “Sorry. I wouldn’t have done it so close to you. But I’m a decent shot. Most of the time,” he said, looking over at the taller man.

“I’m glad you did, Spritz. I’m glad you did.”

After that, Stutter seemed to trust him a little bit more, even if Eddie didn’t reciprocate fully. That was okay. Better to keep your wits about you.

Between the two of them, they’d had enough food to get them through a few days, but after a while, Eddie just couldn’t deal with potato chips and cheez whiz anymore. “I need real food,” he said as they drove along the highway. “Why don’t you pull off here and we can find a grocery store or something?”

“Seriously? You know, Spritz, you’re a little bit more of a burden than a help sometimes,” he said, but there was no real malice in his voice. He turned off on the exit and pulled into the parking lot of the nearest Walmart on the highway. “You know there’ll be some big’uns in here,” he said, parking right in front of the old sliding doors, which had been ripped off of their tracks, lying on the concrete in a pile of broken glass.

There was always something surreal to Eddie about going to places that, pre-Z, would have been so mundane and commonplace. Seeing these places as the ransacked, deserted wastelands they were now never failed to ring as eerie.

“Oh yeah,” he replied and turned around, looking in the backseat. He pulled out an AK that Stutter had stashed back there, checking the ammo, before looking back at the other man. “You scared or somethin’?”

“Hell no.” Stutter grabbed a machete from the back, brandishing it proudly. After a second, he seemed to reconsider and also grabbed a shotgun, which he slung across his chest with the strap. “Let’s fuck ‘em up.”

The inside of the store was just as desolate and bone-chillingly ruined as the outside, broken glass and toppled shelves littering the ground. It was quiet enough that Eddie could hear his own breath as they walked into the store.

Stutter started to whistle a tune and Eddie’s blood pumped faster. Zombies responded to music more than anything else.

The first sound came from up ahead, in the food aisles and Eddie lifted his gun, pointing it in that direction. Another sound came from their right. Stutter’s back pressed against his as they moved forward.

“Ten o’clock!” Stutter yelled and Eddie swung around, firing the gun as soon as he saw the zombie hauling ass toward them. And he was-- a big one that is. The Z fell to the ground in a clump, sliding forward along the linoleum tiles from its own momentum.

“I’ve got this one,” Stutter said and Eddie turned around to see him swinging the machete around as he approached a grotesquely bloated brute of a Z with a rotten Mickey Mouse tshirt on its chest. Eddie groaned as the inevitably gory decapitation scared his mind.

“I don’t know why you don’t just use a gun,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s so much cleaner.”

“But so much less fun.”

They continued to walk around the store, picking up supplies and things that they needed. It was obvious that the store had mostly been picked over though. As they reached the back of the store, they both stopped in their tracks when they heard a noise. Eddie raised his gun in the direction of the storage room door, which swung open abruptly.

Eddie couldn’t have been less prepared to see the perfectly normal, non-zombie guy who walked out, his eyes crazed and stricken with fear. He carried himself with a confidence that Eddie didn’t think he could’ve ever mustered at any point in his lifetime and had a look to him—the guy could have worn a shit-eating grin like he was born with it. Not to mention, he wore an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, which looked like it had seen better days, over a slim bare chest, which yeah, okay. Eddie couldn’t look away from. His hair sat in an unruly mop of black curls on his head, long enough that it hung in front of his bespectacled eyes. His skin was lightly tanned and sprinkled with freckles around the tops of his high cheekbones, signs of living out in Zombieland no doubt. But he didn’t look rough and tumble, like Stutter. No-- In a word, he was_fucking gorgeous. _Okay, maybe two words.

Eddie’s fingers twitched, wanting to reach up and brush his fingers through those beautiful black ringlets. And for a second, he actually almost did, but then the guy thankfully started talking. The trance was broken, and Eddie shoved his gaping mouth closed.

“Hurry,” he said, voice harried and rushed. “It’s my girlfriend...” He sounded choked up as he said the words, his eyes tearing up at the corners. And his voice was so genuine, so dripping with honesty that Eddie couldn’t help but believe him. “Please, help...”

Eddie looked to Stutter, who had an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Lead the way.”

“W-we were just trying to find shelter here. A-and she got bitten,” the guy was telling them, walking at a brisk pace.

They followed him back into the storage room, where they saw a striking red-headed girl sitting atop a large box. Her face was just as fearful, eyes red-rimmed from crying. On her arm, Eddie spotted the red gnaw marks of an obvious zombie bite. “G-good,” she got out, looking at the guy who went over and took her hands. “So they’ll do it?”

The guy looked at them, his eyes wide. “We...we don’t have gun, but we promised each other...” He looked back at her, unable to hold back his tears anymore. He lifted a hand to the side of her face, stroking her cheek tenderly.

“You have to do it,” she said, looking at them now, her voice taking an edge it didn’t have before. “Before it takes. You have to shoot me.”

“Oh, fuck,” Stutter said, looking over at Eddie whose fingers gripped his gun so tightly they hurt.

“Well we have to, right? There’s no choice,” Eddie said, looking back at Stutter. Once someone was infected, they were going to get the disease. He’d never seen it happen otherwise. And once that happened...well they were all as good as dead if they hesitated too much. It only took minutes for the disease to take.

Eddie watched the guy in the Hawaiian shirt as he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to the red-headed girl’s lips and whispered something to her, too quiet for him to hear. He pulled away and looked at them, his bottom lip quivering. “Okay. Do it.”

Eddie nodded and walked over to the girl, frowning at her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that this is what you want, but—“

“Stop blubbering and just fucking do it,” she snapped, her eyes piercing into him.

He flinched but nodded and lifted his gun, pointing it at her head, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

“Fuck. I can’t—“

“Oh fuck it, I’ll do it,” Stutter said quickly, lifting his own gun as Eddie lowered his, taking a step back.

“No, wait,” the boyfriend said, stepping forward. “I’ll do it. It should be me.” Stutter watched him suspiciously for a few seconds. But the guy was in pain, and Stutter seemed to see this and he handed over his gun with a nod. He carefully went up to the girl and cupped her cheek, kissing her one last time before he took a step back and aimed the gun at her. “I’m sorry baby,” he said, with a deep breath.

Eddie closed his eyes, looking away, not wanting to see. He might’ve been pretty much a pro at fucking up zombies at this point, but this was too much.

“Alright, hands up,” he heard and his blood ran cold as he opened his eyes once again. He saw the dark-haired guy holding the shotgun, pointed at Stutter who was rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“Motherfuckers!” Stutter growled, holding his hands up in the air.

The red-headed girl was standing up before she walked over to Eddie with a smirk, her hips swinging. “I’ll take that,” she said, holding out her hand for his gun.

He handed it over with a groan. “Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

“We’ll take your guns, car, and any other supplies you have, thank you very much,” the guy was saying with a short laugh. “God. People just get more and more gullible, don’t they, Red?” he was saying, looking to the girl, who checked Eddie’s gun before holding it up and pointing it at him. “I mean, you guys should’ve seen, there was this guy last week who honestly believed that we—“

“Shut up, oh my god,” she said, shaking her head. “Can you please just shut your mouth for once?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It was hilarious.” He shoved the business end of his gun between Stutter’s shoulder blades and pushed. “Alright, let’s get that SUV. That thing is a fuckin’ beaut.”

“Yeah. I know,” Stutter muttered, shaking his head.

“Hey, careful!” Eddie hissed as the girl kicked him in the leg.

“Move it, shortie,” she said.

“I’m not that fucking short. Jesus Christ,” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes, walking forward.

When they got to the car, the girl, Red, held them at gunpoint while the guy looked through the back, laughing hysterically. “Look at this shit! Red, we hit the fucking jackpot,” he said, holding up one of Stutter’s machine guns, inspecting it closely.

“Keys,” she said, holding out her palm and Stutter handed them over with a roll of his eyes.

The guy came back around and bowed to them, smirking. “You all have been a great audience. Honestly, thank you so much for the gifts.”

Red rolled her eyes. “You drive me absolutely nuts. Just shut up and drive,” she said, tossing him the keys. He caught them and walked around, hopping into the driver’s seat with a spring in his step. He started the car and rolled down the passenger side window. “Get in, babe,” he cooed.

She groaned. “Don’t fucking call me that,” she said and kept her gun trained on them as she climbed into the passenger seat. “The kiss was over the top asshole. I told you not to do that,” she was muttering to him.

“What can I say? I’m a performer at heart.” He revved the engine and lifted a hand up to wave at them as they sped off, leaving them quite literally in the dust. 

* * *

Richard Tozier actually fucking loved Z-Land.

For a number of reasons, chief among them being that he was a goddamn beast at killing zombies. Like, no joke, he may have been one of the best in the biz. Just about a week ago, he’d killed a zombie that snuck up on him at a convenience store he and Bev were checking out with nothing more than a hairbrush and a Ziploc baggie. The grotesque bastard didn’t know what hit him. He hadn’t been rewarded ZKOTW (Zombie Kill of the Week) yet, but it was coming.

He’d never really been _good _at anything pre Z-Land, except mouthing off at the most exceptionally inappropriate times, so it was a pretty nice change of pace for him actually. Killing zombies came as naturally to him as a night alone with his right hand and a vintage porno mag. It wasn’t that he’d ever been particularly violent pre-Z. No, not at all. In fact, he’d grown up taking the brunt of the violence from assholes at school who thought his glasses were too dorky or his tshirts too smart. But Z-land had a way of doing away with those douchebags, and rewarding the people who actually had enough brains to outsmart a diseased maniac with rotten flesh dripping from its gaping mouth. And, needless to say, he appreciated that logic.

Another reason he loved Z-Land? Ass on ass on ass. Pre-Z, Richie had been a closeted asswipe without the balls to admit that he liked sucking dick way more than eating pussy. But there was just something about the end of the world, and, with it, the end of knowledgeable social conventions, that made a man throw all of those inhibitions out the window and go on the hunt. And it actually kind of shocked him how easy it was to find a normal, human guy willing to take it up the ass (or give it, Richie wasn’t picky) at a moment’s notice in Z-Land. So yeah, Richie had had a bit of a sexual awakening. But that was it. His stance on ‘hit it and quit it’ hadn’t shifted. If anything, he’d committed to it even more. The last thing he needed was emotional baggage out on the road to nowhere when he already had zombies breathing down his neck.

Not to mention, he and Bev had made an agreement: no attachments. It was her rule more than his, but he didn’t fuck with it. They had each other and that was all they needed. And he would never question the rule, because, well, Bev had her reasons, even if she wouldn’t admit to them. No, she would never admit that the reason she insisted they flew duo was because she still had nightmares about when Ben was bitten. No, no. It had nothing to do with that. Except that it did. And Richie still had to pull her close to him sometimes when she’d wake up in the middle of the night, screaming, brush her hair back out of her eyes and shush her quietly until she finally calmed down enough to go back to sleep. 

He worried about Bev. Like a lot. It was hard enough to cope with the death of your soulmate. But to do it in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, well that was just life’s cruel way of saying _fuck you. _And Ben and Bev had been soulmates. Richie had third-wheeled that bicycle long enough to know that much. They’d been inseparable even before, and their bond only seemed to strengthen after everything went down. It had been him, Bev, and Ben against the world. For a little while anyway.

Richie threw his legs up on the dashboard, reclining his seat in the SUV as they started moving again. He’d been the one to insist they stop off at the deserted gas station for snacks, and Bev had reluctantly agreed. Really, he’d just wanted to switch seats so that Bev would drive. She saw right through it.

“So they were hot, right?” Richie said as Bev turned onto the main road, glancing over to gauge her reaction. She didn’t have one.

“Who? The zombie station attendants we just killed? Trashmouth, I think your sexual exploration is getting out of hand.”

“No, dumbass, those guys we just conned,” he said, rolling his eyes, smiling though. He loved that Bev could dish it out as well as she could take it. It was one of his favorite things about her. “You never know, we might run into them again.”

“Yeah, and?”

“_And _that tall one was definitely eyeing you—”

“As we stole their livelihood.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there,” Richie said with a shrug. “It would be good for you, though, Bev—”

“_Red.” _

“Okay, _Red, _whatever. You know we don’t have to do that shit when it’s just us, right? I know who you are.”

“That’s not me anymore.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Fine. Anyway, I think it would be good for you to get back out there, you know, get some dick.”

“Yeah. I know you’re no stranger to that sentiment,” she said, casting him a side glance.

“Judge all you want. At least I’m getting off regularly. Do you even mastur—”

“Oh my god, _stop_.”

“Just asking. It’s healthy, you know. Good for your system and all that shit.” He paused. “Dibs on the shorty, though, super cute. Would bang,” he said, inspecting his fingernails.

“Okay, sure, yeah, on the off chance we run into them again and they don’t kill us, you are free to pursue the small one with the fanny pack. Be my guest.”

“You don’t have to give me permission. He was totally checking me out. He’s as good as mine.”

“You disgust me, you know that?”

“You tell me regularly, yeah.”

“Okay, good, just making sure.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the next bit! 
> 
> This might end up being a bit longer than I originally thought 😂 not to mention, more of a slow burn. as I write it, it's changing. 
> 
> anyway, a couple of things. first, they're all the same ages, more like in It than in Z-land, obviously. just thought I'd say that in case it isn't clear. also, they're from different places, except Bev and Richie. they grew up together. everyone else is from all over though. 
> 
> enjoy! ❤️

The glass rained down a shimmering, grimy circle in front of him as Eddie jumped back, horrified. “What the fuck, dude?” he yelled, watching as Stutter picked up another rock from the ground. “That shit could get me in the eye!”

“Gotta let off steam,” Stutter told him simply, chucking another rock up at a window in the building in front of them.

After the couple from hell had run off with their SUV, guns, and basically everything they had keeping them alive (except Stutter’s machete-- somehow they’d missed that, or they just weren’t totally cruel after all) they’d spent about an hour or so walking around the nearby town, bouncing ideas off of each other, an activity which mostly consisted of Stutter telling him that he was a stuck up little bitch and Eddie responding that trying to run after the bastards to seek revenge was a crazy plan. So apparently throwing rocks at abandoned buildings was as far as they were going to get.

“Here, try it,” Stutter said, tossing Eddie a large pebble. He rolled the rock in his hand, considering for a moment. Hey, what the hell. He locked his eyes on a target and lobbed the rock at the window with all of his strength, letting out a hysterical laugh when it shattered loudly, spraying glass shards all over the ground.

“See? Fun, isn’t it?” Stutter said before throwing another one. “Gotta enjoy the little things, my friend.”

_Enjoy the little things. _Eddie guessed he was right. And yeah. It was definitely fun. He grabbed another rock off the ground and threw it at a window. Pretty soon, they were taking turns, giddily throwing rocks at the building until there weren’t any windows left to break.

Eddie let out a breathless chuckle, looking over at Stutter. “Fuck. That was great,” he said, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He felt like a five year old who had just discovered the joy of running until he felt like his lungs were going to burst.

Mentally, he added another rule to his ever-growing list. _Rule No. 32: Enjoy the Little Things. _

* * *

“Fuck! Serisously?” Bev was shouting outside of the SUV, banging her hands on the engine which was letting out a steady stream of exhaust or smoke or something. Richie didn’t know shit about cars. That was more Bev’s realm.

“I think they call this karma,” Richie said, sticking his head out the window. He was watching her from the passenger seat. It was better to stay out of her way when things like this happened. She could get a bit testy with him. “I’ve heard she’s a bitch.”

“Fuck,” she emphasized, climbing back into the driver’s side and slamming her door shut. “Fuck, fuck _fuck_!”

“Enlightening, really,” Richie said, turning to dig around in the backseat for something he’d seen earlier. He pulled out two cans of spray paint, black and white. “But don’t worry, Red, I’ve got this covered,” he said, and hopped out. Where the side of the car said _SILVER, _in white letters, he began to spray over the_ILVER, _whiting it out completely, before spraying _OS, _in black, stepping back to admire his work.

He looked to Bev who was watching him, head on her arms on the open window sill. “How the hell is that gonna help?” she asked, dejected. He could still see the makeup from the fake zombie bite on her arm. It was rubbing off on her cheek and he walked over to her, licking his thumb before trying to rub the red streak off for her. She made a disgusted face and squirmed, but he held her chin with his other hand.

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that together, we’re irresistible,” he said and smirked playfully. “Someone’ll help us. Or at least pull over. Then we steal their car and hit the highway,” he said. After all, they couldn’t hit but so much bad luck, right?

* * *

“That’s them, right?” Eddie said, eyeing the SUV which sat about fifty yards ahead of them on the highway. It looked deserted, the hood popped open and no one to be seen. On the side, _SOS _was written.

“Yeah, most definitely,” Stutter said. He’d put the car in park, and Eddie waited for some kind of direction. They were only here because Stutter had insisted they follow after their assailants after all. They’d managed to find another working car in the town, and Eddie hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise about the fact that they really should just keep on their course eastward, especially since the other two had clearly been headed west, back the way they’d come from. And, god, the chances that they’d even catch up to them at this point were slim to none anyway. But here they were. Eddie didn’t even know why he bothered.

“Could be another trap,” Stutter said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “You stay here, I’m gonna check it out. Pull up when I tell you.” As he climbed out and walked toward the ominous scene, machete in hand, Eddie climbed over to the driver’s side, watching nervously. There was a part of him that itched to just drive off, leave Stutter there and not look back. He didn’t, though, mostly because he heard the sound of a gun cock right next to his ear.

“Hey, hot stuff.” The voice, familiar and smooth in a bone-chilling, milk chocolatey kind of a way, came from the backseat, and Eddie let out a groan. “Don’t you dare make a sound or I shoot you. And I really don’t want to do that, okay? Good to see you again though.”

Eddie turned his head slightly and saw the guy from the grocery store smiling at him, a silver pistol in his hand, aimed right between Eddie’s eyes.

“I don’t believe we met properly, earlier,” the guy was saying. “I’m Trashmouth. Friends…and lovers call me T, though. Less of a mouthful. Don’t know if you mind that.” His smirk grew and Eddie blushed bright red, his mouth trying to form words that weren’t there. _What the fuck? _“What can I call you?”

“Uh, Spritz,” Eddie said, his voice shaking slightly. “I go by Spritz.”

“Cute,” T said, grinning. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, Spritzy. I don’t want to kill you, really, I don’t,” he said, and stupidly, Eddie believed him. “Your friend up there is gonna signal for you to drive up and you’re gonna go, okay? He’s gonna tell you the coast is clear. My friend is gonna take the reins from there. You guys are gonna give us the car. No funny business, okay? If I see you make a move, I shoot you and she shoots your friend. You got that, Spritz?”

Eddie hummed an affirmative, looking back ahead. Stutter was inspecting the car thoroughly. After a moment, he waved to Eddie to come forward.

“Alright, remember what I said, Spritz and you’ll be fine,” T told him, and Eddie gave a small nod. He moved the car into drive and rolled it forward, until he was just a couple yards in front of Stutter, who walked around to the passenger side window.

“No one here,” Stutter said, watching Eddie’s face as he stiffly nodded to him. “Oh fuck,” Stutter said in realization. He whirled around just in time to catch the girl, Red sneaking up behind him. He managed to get her in a choke hold, the machete pressed to her throat. She squirmed but he held fast.

At that moment, T pressed the gun to the back of Eddie’s head. “Hey, let her go, asshole!” he yelled at Stutter. “Or I shoot him in the head.” Eddie could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he could barely breathe, his throat closing up quickly.

He gasped for air but couldn’t find it, his hands going to his throat.

“Hey, stop!” the words filtered through, barely registering as Eddie’s vision started to black out. “Help him!” It was Stutter’s voice, closer now. He felt more than saw the car door open on his side, and suddenly his inhaler was being pressed into his palm. Instinctively he took a pull off of it, his head spinning less as he got oxygen to his brain.

As his vision came back, he saw the three of them standing outside his car door, staring at him, something resembling concern in Stutter’s eyes. The guy, T stood with his gun hanging limp at his side, watching with wide eyes. Eddie could picture in his head what he probably looked like, flushed out white and ghost-like. It had never been a pretty picture.

“I’m fine,” Eddie croaked out, waving a hand. But as soon as he said it, Stutter was grabbing the gun out of T’s loose grasp, pointing it at Red who had her gun up just as quickly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” T said with a sigh of exasperation, a sentiment Eddie was starting to share, escaping his lips. “Can we please drop the guns and just talk like civilized people? This kid almost just choked to death on this bullshit.”

“I’m not a kid,” Eddie countered with a roll of his eyes, taking another pull from his inhaler. There was no way he was any younger than this guy.

A wordless argument seemed to pass between Stutter and Red, until Red opened her mouth. “Alright, fine. Drop on the count of three?”

Stutter hesitated, but then nodded.

“One…two…” Red started to lower her gun and Stutter mirrored her, neither one looking particularly convinced though.

“Three,” Stutter finished as his gun came down by his side.

“Okay, great. So now that we’ve been acquainted, I think it’s time for introductions,” T was saying. “Spritz, here, and I are already dear friends.” Eddie happened to catch an eyeroll from Red at that. “But we have yet to meet,” he said, holding his hand out to Stutter.

“Stutter,” he said, his face stuck in a frown, refusing to shake his hand. “I don’t shake with cheap con-artists.”

“Alright. Tough audience. Anyway, I’m Trashmouth, or T, if you will, and this is Red. We’re headed for LA. Maybe the four of us could travel together?”

“No. T, what the fuck?” Red was saying. Eddie glanced at her to see her shoulders tensed up, lifted almost to her ears in alarm.

“It might not be a bad idea,” Eddie chimed in, taking another pull off of his inhaler. He’d finally managed to get his heartrate down to something halfway normal. “You guys need a car, we need our guns and supplies back. Win, win.”

Red and Stutter both turned to glare at him at the same time and he cowered back. Okay, whatever. He clearly wasn’t in charge here.

After a long, tense silence, Stutter seemed to break. “I do want my guns back,” he said finally.

Red added, “I’m driving.”

And so it was settled.

* * *

It wasn’t long being in the car with T that Eddie started to understand why he called himself Trashmouth. The guy couldn’t seem to shut himself up. Everyone else was utterly silent, literally Eddie didn’t think anyone else had said a word since they got into the car. But Trashmouth didn’t seem to enjoy silence.

“Pretty bad ass. Right, Red?” T said at the end of a particularly long story about a zombie he’d killed in a Sears parking lot with a shopping cart. For some reason, Eddie had listened to the whole goddamn tale.

“I haven’t listened to a word you’ve said since we started driving,” Red told him.

“Fuck you.” T groaned from the backseat where he was sitting next to Stutter. “So you seem like a pretty down and dirty guy,” he said, nudging Stutter’s arm and adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses on his nose. “You got any good kill stories?”

“One time I killed a guy because he wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

Eddie covered his mouth to hold back his laugh, but wasn’t very successful, and ended up giggling like a goddamn schoolgirl. He saw Red crack a smile next to him.

“You get used to him,” she said, glancing over at Eddie. “It takes a while. It’s kind of like, if a fly were buzzing next to your ear all day. Eventually you just don’t hear it anymore.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. It helped him to relax slightly. “So where are you headed?” she asked.

“Oh, I was going east.”

“Where to?”

“Not sure. I’m from Maine. But I doubt I have family up there anymore.”

He watched as she smiled, a hint of sadness there. “Oh yeah? Maine? My boyfriend was from Maine.”

Eddie glanced in the backseat at T and his eyes widened. Just as he was opening his mouth to say something, though, Red started laughing. “Oh no. Not that asswipe. No, no.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you two were…”

“No,” she said with finality. “You couldn’t pay me to date that Trashmouth.”

“Charming, Red,” came from the backseat. “You know. You could do worse than me.”

“Yeah, well, that ship has sailed, hasn’t it?” She side-eyed Eddie. “T is super gay. Like mega mega gay.”

“That’s mature. Real mature,” T quipped, punching her in the shoulder. “What is this? The fifth grade playground? Next thing, you’re gonna be calling me a fairy and pinning signs that say ‘suck me’ to my back.”

“Already planning on it, fairy-boy,” she said and smiled at him in the rearview.

Eddie glanced in the rearview, only to catch T staring back at him. He quickly looked away.

“But if you were going east, you’re going the wrong way now,” Red finally said. “Were both of you headed east?” She glanced at Stutter through the mirror.

“I was, sure,” Stutter said. “Mostly for somewhere to go. I’m not picky though.”

“I heard there might be a haven out east,” Eddie offered.

“That’s why we’re headed west,” she told him. “Heard that there’s a camp somewhere outside of LA.”

That was a much more concrete idea than what Eddie had.

“We can try to find you another car, though, and you can go your own way,” she said.

* * *

The car went over a pothole and Eddie jerked awake, immediately groaning at the crick in his neck. He looked around groggily, realizing he must have dozed off at some point while they were driving. It was pitch black outside now, and T was behind the wheel in the seat next to him.

“Sleep well, Princess?” he said, glancing over at him with a grin.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie said, rubbing his neck. He dug around in his fanny pack for his bottle of pain killers and grabbed his water bottle, downing three of the Advil. Sleeping in cars never did much for his aches and pains.

He looked in the back seat to see Red and Stutter both asleep on opposite doors, Red’s feet pulled up on the seat next to her. Stutter was snoring softly.

“You got anything good in there?” T asked him, eyeing Eddie’s fanny pack.

“No, just, like pain killers, my inhaler, a couple of other things that come in handy. I try to be prepared.”

“I can see that.” T gave a playful grin, but kept his gaze forward on the road. “You can only be but so prepared out here, though, I guess.”

“Sure, yeah. But if you’re careful, and you plan, you have a much higher chance of surviving,” Eddie said, shrugging. “Like for instance, there’s a reason that most of the people who got caught first were overweight. It’s important to stay in shape. And eating a balanced diet, making sure you’re getting all your vitamins. I mean, the last thing you want is to catch the flu. We come into contact with like so many pathogens out here, it would be easy to catch something, other than the plague, that is. And once that happens, your immune system is weakened and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” T said with a laugh. “You’re a bit of a Safety Sam, aren’t you?”

Eddie felt his cheeks burn and he looked out the window.

“It’s okay. It’s cute,” T said and Eddie glanced over at him, catching T looking back at him for just a second before he looked back at the road.

Eddie’s stomach fluttered as he looked down at his hands, wringing his fingers nervously. So he was flirting, then. _You need to be careful, _a voice said in his head.

“So how do you two know each other?” Eddie asked after a minute just to change the topic.

T glanced at Red in the rearview, his lips turning up in a sad smile. “Red and I go way back,” he said. “Like before all the zombie shit. We were friends back in high school, and we went to college together, graduated a couple years back. We were rooming together in New York when the news about the plague came out. She’s basically family,” he told Eddie with a shrug. “You two?”

“We just met on the road,” Eddie said, and for some reason it sounded lame to his own ears, after what T had said. “Decided to travel together for a little while.”

T just nodded, and stayed silent for a moment. Only a moment though. “You talk in your sleep, you know,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

Eddie’s eyes widened, looking at T, utterly alarmed. He couldn’t even remember having dreamt anything. Oh god. He tried to rake through his brain, figure out what he might have said, but nothing was there, which only scared him even more.

“Don’t worry, nothing bad. I think I did hear you say ‘mommy,’ at one point though, and that could be worth unpacking,” T said and let out a laugh.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie got out, his face burning bright red. And so he said the only thing he could think to say. “Actually, it was your mom I was dreaming of. When I was with her last night.”

T didn’t say anything or make any kind of indication of his reaction for a long time, and Eddie started to worry that he’d said something wrong.

“My mother’s dead, dude,” T said slowly, his voice morbidly serious.

“Oh, fuck, man, I’m so sorry—”

T cracked then, bursting out into a fit of laughter, which wracked his whole body to the point where Eddie thought for a second that he was going to have to take the wheel. “Fuck. Dude. That’s hilarious. Honestly. Spritzy gets off a good one,” he got out between his chuckles, lifting a hand to wipe the moisture under his eyes.

“I—what? I’m confused.”

“Oh. About my mom? Yeah, she’s probably dead,” T said, rather matter of fact. “But like, more likely from alcohol poisoning years ago than from the plague. Yeah, no. I was just fucking with you. That was a good one though. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Eddie blinked slowly, trying to process all of that. After a moment, though, he smiled, some part of him proud that he’d been able to make this guy laugh. He’d think about why later. That wasn’t for right then.

Suddenly, T was slowing down the car, and Eddie looked out the window, to see a perfectly intact Jeep sitting in front of them. “You said you’re headed East, right?” T asked. “Probably best not to head too much further West, then. You’ll just backtrack. You could take that car.”

Eddie stared at the Jeep, suddenly faced with the decision he didn’t know he’d have to make so damn soon.

“Too bad, honestly. I would’ve liked to get to know you, Spritz,” T told him.

Eddie slowly opened the car door, but paused, fingers curling on the handle. He closed it again. “You know, I better stay with Stutter. The poor guy’s kinda clueless when it comes to like, safety and whatever. He’ll end up catching pneumonia, and dying of a fever or something,” he rushed out, still looking straight ahead, refusing to look over at T, who he could sense staring at him, a playful grin on his lips.

“’Atta boy,” the other man said, putting the car back into drive.

* * *

“Up and at ‘em!”

Eddie groaned, rolling his head, his nose pressing into rough fabric. He pried his eyes open to see that it was denim. Washed out, worn and torn denim, which ended in a fray a couple inches from his face, and from there, a lightly tanned, muscular thigh. He sat up with a jolt, looking to see T asleep against the car door, his arm folded under his head, breath coming out against the window in little puffs of condensation. He reached up to his own cheek, where he could feel the imprint of T’s jean shorts on his cheek. They were both in the backseat, Red now in the passenger’s seat with Stutter driving.

“Hey, there, Shortstack, sleep well?” Stutter asked, meeting his eyes in the rearview. Eddie blushed and rubbed at his face, trying to get rid of the evidence. Leave it to him to fall asleep with his head in the lap of a guy he barely knew.

“I wish you all would shut the fuck up,” T muttered, pulling his knees up onto the seat next to him, nudging Eddie out of the way. “Some of us are trying to get some beauty sleep. You don’t get to look this good without some shut eye.”

“As much as I enjoyed not hearing you talk for a couple hours, Trashmouth, I need everyone up for this,” Stutter told them.

Up front, Red was waking up as well, stretching her arms over her head. “What—oh. Fuck.” She was staring out her window, eyes wide.

Eddie leaned over the center console, to get a better look. It was bright outside, probably close to noon by now, and they were on a street, sitting in front of a white picket fence family home. Roaming in the yard were probably fifteen zombies, all now headed for their car. “Where are we?” Eddie asked, his voice cracking as he tried to find his gun.

Next to him, T was fumbling on the ground for his glasses. Once he finally got them on, he crowded onto Eddie’s side of the car to look out the window over his shoulder. “Oh yeah. This is gonna be fun,” he said, his breath tickling the hair at the back of Eddie’s neck.

Before Eddie could ask any more questions (_Why are we here? Why don’t we just keep going?_) the other three were out of the car. He huffed out a breath, shaking his head, before he opened his door as well, checking to make sure his shot gun was loaded as he stepped out, immediately shooting a zombie that T clearly had his sights set on, right between the eyes. T looked over at him, disappointment written across his features. “Did you just steal my kill, Spritz?”

Eddie just smirked in response, cocking his gun for the next shot.

The four of them fell into a kind of rhythm then, like if a choreographed ballet were actually a gruesome zombie slaughter. Stutter shouted directions, letting them know if a Z was behind them, T literally tackled a Z to the ground and held it there as Red shot it in the head. There was a part of Eddie that couldn’t help but to be proud that he was a part of this little zombie-killing machine.

He watched as T yanked a long, curved knife out of the skull of a zombie, putting his foot on the thing’s chest with a look of triumph. He wiped the knife off on his jean shorts and Eddie grimaced.

“Alright, so what the fuck are we doing in the middle of Shitsville, USA?” Red asked as she holstered her own pistol, looking over at their driver once the action had subsided.

“I have to get something,” Stutter told them, walking up the front door of the house. The door came down easily when he kicked it in, the hinges snapping like toothpicks. They followed him, in, Eddie keeping his gun up, and checking around every corner, but the house seemed to be completely deserted. “Alright, you two, stay here, keep watch” Stutter said, pointing to Red and Eddie. “Smart ass, you come with me,” he said, pointing to T.

T put a hand over his heart. “Oh my, I’m honored. Truly. What did I do to—”

“Okay, scratch that. Red, you’re with me. Watch my back.”

T’s shoulders slumped, and he kicked his shoe against the ground as Red and Stutter headed up the stairs. “You know, I get the feeling he doesn’t like me,” he said, looking over at Eddie.

“I wonder why,” Eddie responded, monotonous. He started to wander around the house out of boredom, T close by his side. Most everything was covered in cobwebs or dust, the house clearly having been left vacated for a while. In the living room, a series of framed photographs sat on the fireplace mantle. A family of four, two little boys, their arms wrapped around each other, two graduation photos side-by-side of the same boys, years later.

T gasped next to him. “Hey, is that—”

“Alright let’s go,” Stutter’s voice came from behind them, he and Red coming back down the stairs. Eddie spun around, his eyes wide.

“Is this your house?” T asked. Eddie was starting to get the feeling that subtlety wasn’t a concept for this guy.

“Used to be. A long time ago.” He came over and looked over the photos behind them briefly, before grabbing the one of the two boys standing together. One of them was clearly Stutter years ago, the other, a blonde kid, younger. They stood with bright smiles, outside on a sunny day.

“Who’s that?” T asked, watching him interestedly.

“Let’s go,” Stutter said again as he slipped the photograph out of the frame and folded it up, sticking it in his pocket. “B-b-before any more Zs show up.”

Eddie noticed that Stutter was carrying something under his arm, a small cardboard box. He knew better than to ask what it was.

* * *

“It’s fun. I used to do it all the time when I was a kid.”

They were all stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking what appeared to be a watering hole. Stutter called it _The Quarry, _like it was some enchanted place from his childhood.

“It looks incredibly dangerous,” Eddie said, glancing over the edge, a shiver going down his spine at the thought of jumping the distance.

“Trust me, if I can do it at ten, you can do it at—how old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Okay, you can do it at twenty-three.”

Before Eddie could say anything else, though, Red was running past them. “Catch you Losers down there!” A couple seconds later, he heard the splash down below. He looked over and saw her, swimming in the water beneath them.

“See? She’s got the right idea,” Stutter said. A second later, he was gone too, leaving Eddie with T.

Eddie muttered, “Alright, well I think I’m just gonna walk around.”

“Oh come on. Live a little,” T said, quirking a smile at him. He stripped off the Hawaiian shirt, which already wasn’t covering anything else, leaving him shirtless. Eddie stared for about a second too long, and T definitely noticed. “We’ll go at the same time,” he said, stretching his hamstring out like he was about to run a 5K.

“Enjoy the little things,” Eddie muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Richie raised an eyebrow in question, to no avail. “Last one down’s a rotten egg!” Eddie yelled as he sprinted toward the edge, realizing only as he got there that there was no going back.

He hit the water hard, coming back up a second later, spewing water from his mouth. T followed after him only a second later, and immediately splashed him in the face, not making it any easier to get his bearings.

“Asshole! I said the same time!”

“Not my fault you’re a rotten egg,” Eddie finally said, laughing as he got his breath back, pushing a wave of water back in T’s direction.

Eddie lifted his legs up then, relaxing into a back float. It had been so long since he’d been able to relax, even for just a second. Zombieland was full of micro-stressors: lack of regular hygiene, struggle for nutrition, his weak immune system, blah blah blah. Eddie felt like he hadn’t stopped being on edge since the first zombie bite back a couple of months ago.

“We should play chicken! Remember that, Red?” He heard as he stood back up, his feet finding the ground underneath of him.

Red groaned. “Don’t you think we’re a little old for—”

“Don’t be a killjoy,” T responded, rolling his eyes. “How often do we actually get to have fun anymore? Spritz, get on my shoulders,” he said, turning to Eddie then. “You’re the smallest, so I can hold you.”

“I’m not the smallest,” he said, glancing at Red, who, okay, might have been a little bit taller than him. He let out an aggravated sigh and swam over as Stutter glanced awkwardly to Red.

“Uh, do you want to…?”

“Let me up, dumbass,” Red said, and climbed onto his shoulders.

Suddenly Eddie was actually pretty concerned that he would most definitely lose this. He managed to mount himself on T’s shoulders, almost losing his balance when the other man stood properly. “Woah, there, princess—”

“Don’t,” Eddie growled.

T’s hands came up, fingers curling around his thighs, higher up than Eddie thought normal. His ksin there erupted in goosebumps. He told himself it was because of the chill in the air. He felt his cheeks turn red as he reached down, pushing T’s hands down closer to his knees. He didn’t protest, but Eddie could’ve sworn he made a soft grunt of displeasure. He could still feel the ghost of his fingers there, on his inner thighs, though and boy did that make it hard to concentrate. He didn’t have much time to think about it though, because then Red was shouting “Ready, Go!” and shoving at him, giving Eddie about a split second to prepare himself, before Red managed to shove him down into the water.

He came back up, spluttering and wiping his eyes. T was shaking his head at him. “Don’t make me regret my team choice, here, Spritz,” he said and glanced back at the other two. “Rematch!”

* * *

“They’re just like general rules,” Spritz was saying, his hands moving as he spoke. “You know, things you should do to make sure you’re prepared out here.”

“Give us an example,” Bev was saying, her body curved over the fire, hands outstretched toward the warmth of the flame.

Bev had managed to build them a fire on the shore of the quarry water pit when it started to get dark and they’d pulled themselves out of the water. Richie had his head resting in her lap, his body outstretched on the sand, legs crossed. He felt good. Not only from being actually _clean _from the dip in the water, but just, in general, more at peace than he had been in a long time. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he wasn’t complaining.

He glanced across the fire at Spritz. His eyes reflected the flickering of the flame, his hair still slightly damp against his forehead. Richie hadn’t really been able to keep his eyes off of him since they’d all decided to travel together. And maybe that had been a large part of the reason he’d suggested the idea to begin with. _Maybe_. But almost definitely.

“Um, like, always wear your seatbelt,” Spritz told them. “You know, like it’s easy to forget that kind of thing when you’re thinking about running from zombies—”

“I don’t run from them, I shoot ‘em,” Richie said, making a gun with his fingers and pointing it at him, giving a wink as he pretended to fire it.

“Yeah, okay. Well, killing zombies, whatever. It’s easy to forget to do something like putting on your seatbelt, because it’s so, you know, mundane.” He shrugged, watching them as if gauging their reaction.

“Okay. Interesting. Another,” Bev said curiously.

“Okay,” Spritz said and reached into his fanny pack. “I carry around these Vitamin-C and multi vitamin pills. Because it’s so hard to get fresh produce now. And it’s easy to be low on your nutrients, which is like super dangerous. You know, scurvy is like an actual thing you can get. Not just for pirates.”

Richie smirked, watching him, and Spritz looked down at him, his face dropping into a frown.

They all turned to look when they heard footsteps approaching through the woods, but relaxed when they saw it was Stutter, carrying their guns slung over his shoulder from the car, the box he’d gotten earlier under his other arm.

He passed the guns around, and everyone singularly went through their process of checking their gun, making sure it was properly loaded and ready. It was so weird. Richie had never even used a gun before Z-land, but here he was, a regular huntsman just months later.

“If you guys don’t mind,” Stutter was saying. “I’d like to have a little bit of a memorial.” He looked uncomfortable. “I’d do it alone, but I think that...that he deserves to have more than just me say goodbye. Even if you guys didn’t know him.”

Richie sat up when Stutter laid the box he was carrying on the ground as they all watched him. He pulled a whiskey bottle out of the box, his eyes glimmering in the firelight.

“My…my brother, George. I lost him a couple of weeks ago. We were traveling together,” he paused, letting out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around the bottle. Richie’s heart tightened, his short fingernails digging into his own thighs.

Red stood up then, walking over to him, putting her hand on his arm. “It’s hard. It’s so hard, I know. I’ve been there,” she said comfortingly.

Stutter sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. “He was a great kid. Better than me. S-s-smarter and c-cooler. He was really going places,” he got out with a soft chuckle and a somber smile. He reached down into the box and grabbed a yellow rain jacket, big enough only for a small child. “This is old stuff. From our parents’ house. But I just wanted to get something, to say goodbye.” He tossed the jacket back into the box and poured a bit of dark liquid from the bottle on top, before taking a swig himself. He passed it to Spritz, who took a swig and passed it on to Richie, their fingers brushing briefly in the pass off. Once they’d each had a drink, Richie passed his matches to Stutter who threw a lit match onto the box, igniting a flame. They all watched silently for a few minutes, passing the bottle around a few more times between them.

Eventually the flame died out, leaving the box charred, and them all in a contemplative silence. When the bottle came back around to him, Richie took three large gulps, squeezing his eyes shut. This was the hard part about Zombieland. Not the killing or the struggle for survival. No, all of that was relatively easy, it turned out. The hard part was dealing with losing everyone around you, learning to get along without the people in your life. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost Bev. She was really all he had left anymore.

The conversation picked back up again, when Bev finally broke the silence, asking Spritz to elaborate more on Scurvy and all of its implications, which he dove into happily and enthusiastically.

The conversation morphed into something else then, becoming easy and natural, like it’d been in the water. Their laughter drifted into the empty night air, and in the back of his mind, Richie couldn’t help but to think that, even with the ache of loss all around them, maybe they’d managed to find something that wasn’t quite so painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks!! let me know your thoughts :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, fair warning, I have not read over this like at all 😂 so I'm so sorry about any glaring typos/errors/whatever. I just wanted to get it posted tonight 
> 
> also, don't think too much about the timeline of this lol -- I like eighties references so I made a few, but I don't really know if that's when I want it to be set. think of it more as timeless? or just don't think about it at all bc that's what I'm doing haha
> 
> anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy! this chapter was a lot of fun to write :D

“And I just couldn’t get it up. Like, here I was, with this clearly smokin’ hot girl, and for the life of me I couldn’t get hard.” The question on the floor was _most awkward sexual experience, _and T laughed as he told his story, shaking his head, as though disbelieving his own words. He was the one who’d suggested they play ‘truth or drink,’ like they were teenagers at a kegger. But honestly, at this point, Eddie had stopped caring. He was about five shots of whiskey in and not coming back down anytime soon.

“So, she was like, super offended, right?” he continued, holding his hand out to Eddie for the whiskey bottle, taking a swig when he passed it.

They’d all been drinking regardless of whether they told a story or not, so the circle was a bit loose already. It had been a very long time since Eddie had even had a drink, so it was really going straight to his head. They were still sitting around the fire by the quarry, the hours passing by as they talked and laughed. It was nice actually, and surprisingly comfortable.

“Like, she really took it to heart. I mean, I wish I’d had the foresight to tell her that it had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with my whiskey dick and total lack of interest in her anatomy. But alas, there’s no way she could have known that. It’s also worth mentioning that I had spent the entire hour leading up to this, totally blowing smoke up her ass—figuratively—telling her that I was going to give her the best lay of her life.”

Stutter laughed, shaking his head. “Of course you did,” he said.

“Hey, what can I say? I have confidence, moxy, if you will. So anyway there we are, in bed, and I’m just trying to push my limp dick into her, and drunkenly, I tell her that maybe if she’d worn something a little more revealing, I would be more interested. Because I was a total douchebag. Like, a major bag of dicks. I admit that. I’m definitely going to hell. Anyway, obviously, she clearly didn’t like that, and ran out of the bathroom, taking my clothes with her.” He paused, smirking at them. “So, to sum up, I used to be a total asshole, and this girl forced me to walk through a frat party butt ass naked, with only my hands to cover my unmentionables. Basically, I got what I deserved. And five years later, I finally realized I was gay.”

He gave a small bow and Stutter actually clapped. “Wow. I can’t say I’m surprised. But wow.”

“Oh, yeah. It was quite the scene. Someone took a photo and plastered it all over campus. They were still finding copies of that flyer months after Trashmouth went around and tried to tear them all down,” Red told them as T passed her the bottle, barely able to control her bout of giggles. 

“I was a campus legend. They still tell tale of the skinny pale guy who streaked campus one cold November night.” He turned then, pointing at Eddie. “Alright, Spritz. You’re up. Most awkward sex story. Go.”

Eddie groaned. “Pass,” he said, hoping that his blush could be passed off as a flush from the alcohol. He held out his hand for the whiskey, but stopped when he saw T was wagging a finger at him.

“Uh-uh. You only get three passes,” he said. “And you already passed on guilty pleasure movies, weirdest kink, and celebrity you wouldn’t kill even if they were a zombie.” His smirk grew, eyes glinting in the fire with his own victory. He had him trapped, and Eddie realized he had broken his own rule (_Rule No. 22: When in doubt, know your way out). _“Probably should have saved one of those. I mean, I could probably guess your guilty pleasure movie: _Pretty in Pink?_”

“No.”

“_Fast Times at Ridgemont High_?”

“Nope.”

“…_Ferris Bueller_?” Eddie stayed silent. “Ha! Got it. Anyway, you have to go. Three strikes, you’re out. And rules are rules, isn’t that right, Spritzy?”

He gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the glasses-faced guy across the fire from him. “I don’t have one,” he said finally, after a beat, his voice cracking.

“Oh come on, everyone has a horrible sex story. It’s just like part of life,” Stutter said, taking the bottle from Red.

“Guys stop, if he doesn’t want to share, don’t make him,” Red said, elbowing T in the side.

T jumped, grabbing his side and glaring at her. “Hey! We just want to hear a story. Come on, it doesn’t have to be like super detailed or anything. Although I would like to hear all the juicy details,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“I said I don’t have one, okay?” Eddie snapped, fingers tightening on the barrel of his gun. He stood up, pushing a hand through his hair and avoiding looking at anyone as he said, “I need to take a piss,” before sulking off into the forest, bringing his gun with him.

So maybe he hadn’t ever actually _had _sex. It wasn’t that big of a deal. And yeah, maybe he realized that his chances were dwindling now that most of the population was plagued with a horrible disease or dead. But you know, he was managing. And he would continue to manage. He just didn’t need assholes like Trashmouth breathing down his neck about it.

Once he’d walked a safe distance from the group, he slumped against the nearest tree, taking a breath. It was dark, and the sounds of the night filled his ears, calming his nerves and helping him to keep from actually having the anxiety attack that had felt right there, on the edge of occurring. He flinched as he heard the sound of a twig break, standing up straight. He saw a shadow move in front of him and he immediately lifted his gun and fired a shot in that direction.

“Fuck!” the voice, clearly T’s was shaking. Eddie was finally able to make out that it was him, his eyes adjusting to the reduced light.

“Oh my god. You can’t just go sneaking up on people like that! I thought you were a zombie,” he hissed, bringing his gun back down, his heart racing in his chest.

“Sorry, sorry, my bad,” T was saying as he came closer, until he was standing right in front of Eddie, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m also sorry…about what I said back there. I didn’t mean to push you.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone flat as he strapped his gun across his chest, shoulders slumping.

“No. No, it’s not fine. Really, I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell us shit if you don’t want to. We hardly even know each other, after all.” He paused, taking in a breath. “I really just wanted to get to know you a little better,” he added, his voice dropping a bit.

“Yeah, well, there’s not too much to get to know.”

“I doubt that.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, his heartbeat quickening again when he noticed that T was moving closer still, pressing the tips of his shoes against Eddie’s.

“I’ll admit…I also kind of wanted to know, what your deal is,” T told him, eyeing Eddie curiously.

Eddie gulped around the lump in his throat, his lips parted as he searched for words. “My…my deal?”

“Yeah, like, what’re you into?” T said. His hand came up, fingertips brushing Eddie’s jaw, featherlight and barely there. But also, _so so there. _Eddie wondered briefly if he was dreaming. But somehow, he doubted even his imagination could do this to him.

“I don’t—” Eddie cut himself off, looking up at T’s eyes, his words, whatever they might have been, catching in his throat. Because T had moved in closer, his face just inches from Eddie’s, his breath ghosting over his lips. “I don’t know,” Eddie finished, the words just a breath that escaped his own lips.

“Let’s find out, then,” T said, and in one motion, he moved his hand to the back of Eddie’s head, pulling him in and pressing their lips together.

Eddie let out an embarrassing noise, his hands plastered to his sides, unsure what to do with them, unsure how to react at all.

T was pulling away then, and Eddie wanted to scream, out of confused frustration, because fuck. _Fuck._“Relax,” T said, his voice soft and reassuring. He kissed the corner of Eddie’s mouth, easing him back against the tree with a hand on his chest.

And finally, Eddie collected his thoughts enough to kiss back, his lips trying to find the right fit against T’s, his eyes falling shut. A part of his brain was yelling at him, in its usual way, telling him that this was a horrible, awful idea and that he needed to stop it in its tracks right now. And he agreed, really, he did, but T’s fingers in his hair, curling around the strands and tugging lightly were telling a completely different story.

And it was nice, then, even if every single one of his nerve endings felt like it was being individually seared, in every place where T’s body pressed against his, leaving absolutely zero room for him to hide anything. The anything being his growing hard on that he was becoming painfully aware of.

His hands came up to rest on the other man’s chest, pushing him away. Because, okay, this definitely needed to stop. Like right then. “We…we can’t—” But then T was pushing his thigh between Eddie’s and pressing just _right there, _and Eddie let out a sound that he’d let himself be humiliated about later, but right now, just felt, _good. _“Oh,” he breathed, and T chuckled, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s neck, as he pressed his thigh up, Eddie rolling his hips forward involuntarily.

“You like that?” T trailed his lips across the column of Eddie’s throat, bringing a hand down to Eddie’s crotch, palming him. It was too much. Too good. He couldn’t think straight. “If you like that, I think I know a few other things you might be interested in,” he teased, and Eddie just really didn’t appreciate that. Not one bit.

He let his head fall forward, fingers curling around the edges of T’s shirt, pressing into his chest, not sure whether he wanted to push him away or pull him closer, if he could, because it just felt so good, so fucking overwhelming. He felt it coming as T bit down on a sensitive part of his neck, and he couldn’t stop it, as much as he wanted to. His hips jerked as he came in his shorts without warning, his eyes going wide as every part of his body turned red with the heat of his embarrassment. “Oh god,” Eddie got out, frantic, panicked.

“Wh—_oh.” _T looked down between them, noticing the damp spot in Eddie’s shorts.

Eddie quickly pushed himself away, trying to look at anything except T.

“That’s…it’s okay,” T said, even though, clearly, he was uncomfortable. God. Weren’t they all? “It happens.”

“Oh my god. Can you stop?” Eddie groaned, putting a hand over his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at him. He couldn’t look at him.

“I mean, it does. It happens to everyone. We can still—”

“No. We’re not _doing_anything. That—this was a weird fluke. I’m not going down that road with you,” he said, voice as firm and resolute as he could manage. He finally looked at T again, only to see that he looked a little bit deflated, his shoulders slumped and his mouth turned down in an uncharacteristic frown. “It’s just…it’s not a good idea. For either of us,” he added. “I’m gonna go back now.” He turned then, leaving T in the forest behind him.

* * *

“Yes, okay? Ha. Ha. He rejected me,” Richie said, closing his fingers around a glass figurine in the antique store they’d happened upon. They were somewhere in New Mexico or Arizona maybe. Red had been tired of driving, so they’d stopped at a road-side motel which was attached to an old antique shop to check it out and camp out for the night. 

She held back her giggles, putting her hand over her mouth. “I—I’m sorry that must be…really hard for you,” she managed, chuckling around every word.

“Stop. I wouldn’t give you this kind of grief—”

“Oh you know you totally would.”

“Whatever. It’s a tender subject, though, so I’d appreciate it if we could just drop it.” He glanced at Spritz from across the store, where the other guy was ambling around, having a rather serious-looking conversation with Stutter, who cast a sidelong glance in their direction.

“Okay, okay. But…maybe he’s just not gay? You know, not everyone is as into dick as you are,” she suggested with a shrug.

“No…no, I don’t think that’s the problem,” Richie responded with a groan. It was hard for him to admit that _he _might be the problem. But based on the way the other guy came in his pants like a horny teenager at prom, he guessed that it didn’t have much to do with his sexuality. So what else could it be?

* * *

Eddie picked up a wine glass, twirling it around in his fingers by the stem. Stutter was talking to him, but he hadn’t really been listening. His mind was on other things, like the way T’s hands had felt on his hips, gripping tightly, making him feel grounded and totally lightheaded at the same time.

“What?” he asked eventually when Stutter had stopped talking and was just staring at him.

“I asked if you were…you know, interested in Red,” he said, eyeing Eddie dubiously.

Eddie watched him earnestly for a moment, trying to see if he was serious. After a thorough scan, it was clear though, he definitely was. He cracked a smile and couldn’t help but laugh, his eyes locking with T’s suddenly from across the shop. “I—no, no I’m not. Not at all.” 

“Okay, cool. I just wanted to make sure. Because, you know, she seems really cool, so, I—”

“Honestly, man. Do what you want. Trust me, I…I don’t really swing that way,” he said, watching Stutter’s face, his gaze unwavering.

“You…_oh. _Okay,” he said slowly, realization settling into his features.

Eddie’s eyes had drifted back to T, watching him as he spoke animatedly to Red about something. He was starting to question his own motives for turning him away like he had. But then again, rules were rules. And he just knew, or at least, some part of him knew, that if he let T do what he wanted with him, well, he’d be putty in his hands. And the next step was trusting him, giving himself over. Then next thing he knew, T was gonna throw him to the wolves, or Zombies, or whatever the fuck, leave him high and dry in a world that didn’t leave much to be comforted by.

He’d been that way for as long as he could remember. The fact that they were in a zombie apocalypse had very little to do with it, but it certainly didn’t help him to feel like he could trust people. He’d been there, gotten burned, and come out the other side a little bit more rough around the edges. Eddie had known he was gay from pretty much the first second he’d started getting zits and his voice was cracking. It was just one of those realizations you had, when you wrapped your fingers around yourself for the first time and couldn’t get images of Christian Slater out of your mind. That wasn’t the problem, though. No, his sexuality had never really been a source of stress for him, because it just, logically, didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Sure, there were the health concerns, but he knew how to deal with those—had done enough reading, and, besides he hadn’t even gotten to that point anyway. But in general, he didn’t see why it mattered that he liked guys, and he didn’t see why it concerned anyone else that he did either. So he didn’t think about it.

What he did think about, was that men could be like parasites, walking around, taking what they could from you, and leaving you in the dust with your dick in your hand and nothing to show for it.

And T certainly hadn’t given him any reason to believe that he was any different.

Stutter followed Eddie’s gaze to the dork with the glasses across the store. His eyes widened and he seemed to piece something together in his mind. “Are you interested in _him?” _he asked.

“What? No,” Eddie said, quickly, shaking his head. He took an instinctive step backward and his elbow knocked a glass plate onto the ground, where it shattered with a loud noise. He glanced back, a flush coming over his face as he looked at the plate. A part of him, from the previous time, he guessed, wanted to apologize to someone and offer to pay for it. Obviously, that didn’t matter, though.

He turned back and caught T’s eyes as his lips turned up into a smirk and he used a finger to push a glass figurine off of a table. It shattered as well, and an involuntary chuckle escaped Eddie’s throat.

“Alright, I get it,” Stutter said, watching them, before he swept his arms across the nearest surface, a hundred fragile and, at one time, valuable goods crashing to the floor in a dazzling spectacle, a grin adorning his face.

And just like that, they made a silent agreement between the four of them to demolish everything in the store like their lives depended on it – and maybe they did. It was a beautifully freeing form of release, and Eddie was reminded of how he felt earlier when he and Stutter had broken all the windows in that old building. Vases and glasses, figurines and knickknacks– nothing stood a chance, especially when T grabbed an old baseball bat off a shelf at the same time that Eddie grabbed a guitar, and they both started swinging.

_Gotta let off steam. _

When everything in the store had been smashed to innumerable pieces, they all just stood there and stared at each other for a moment. Red started laughing first, a quiet, suppressed giggle that turned into a roaring laughter, and soon enough they all joined in, following suit.

* * *

Richie dragged his new favorite toy along the railing on the second floor of the motel, the baseball bat making a low metallic clink as he bounced it on the surface. “I really think you all should reconsider,” he said to the others walking behind him. “We should buddy up in the rooms. You know, for safety,” he said with a smirk, directed at Spritz who rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

He went to a door and tested the knob. “Open,” he announced.

“Yeah, no. I’m not giving up a chance to sleep in my own bed for the first time in weeks.” Red was already going to her own room, adjacent to his. “Alright, I’ll see you guys later,” she said, flashing a peace sign before she walked into the room and shut the door behind herself. Spritz chose the room on the other side of his and Stutter one down.

He let out a resigned sigh and walked into his own room, throwing his backpack down on the bed. There wasn’t much in it – a toothbrush, a couple extra pairs of underwear, a pair of jeans and two or three shirts that he alternated by day, washing everything when he got the chance, which wasn’t often. He went into the bathroom and checked the taps on the sink, just for fun, only to find, as he expected, they didn’t work, probably hadn’t for a long time.

It was late, and so he laid down on the bed, closing his eyes, but he didn’t feel tired. He’d always been a bit of an insomniac, sometimes staying up until the wee hours in the morning simply because his brain wouldn’t shut off. And if there was anything a chronic insomniac knew, it was the feeling that told you that you weren’t going to sleep any time soon.

He laid there, staring at a stain on the ceiling that he would’ve sworn up and down, looked like Steve Buscemi’s profile, if you squinted hard enough for close to an hour. What it really came down to, was that he was trying to avoid thinking about sleeping in a room alone with an open door, and zombies _out there. _He might have talked a big game, but the fact of the matter was, when he didn’t have someone there with him, he was a fucking chicken. Finally, he stood up and went to his door, hesitating out on the balcony for a moment before he knocked on Spritz’s.

He waited for probably thirty seconds, and was about to turn back and go to his room, embarrassed that the idea had even occurred to him, when the door opened. Spritz stood there, clearly having been sleeping, his hair sticking up at strange angles, looking warm and sleepy and just _cute. _Richie had to restrain from reaching out and curling his fingers into the soft fabric of his tshirt, just to be closer. It was amazing what a post-apocalypse did for a person’s need for human contact.

“Oh god,” Spritz said. “It’s way too late for this shit.” He was about to close the door in Richie’s face, but he reached out, holding it open.

“No, I—it’s not that. I promise,” Richie got out quietly. “I just…I have a confession.” Spritz raised his eyebrows. The message there was clear: _you have about thirty seconds before I slam the door in your face. _“I just…like I have trouble sleeping by myself,” he said nervously. “Like…I know it may surprise you, but the idea of a zombie coming into my room and eating my brains while I’m sleeping really fucking freaks me out, so I…I wasn’t joking about the buddy system. I legitimately just can’t sleep. So can I sleep in here? I promise I’m not gonna, like, fondle you in your sleep or anything.”

Spritz eye him dubiously, before he groaned. “Why don’t you go to Red’s room? She’s actually your friend.”

Ouch. Okay. Maybe they hadn’t known each other that long, and maybe when they’d first met, Richie had held a gun to his friend’s back, but hey, not even _friends? _“She’d kill me if I woke her up when she’s sleeping in a real bed for the first time in forever.”

“Oh, really? _She’d_kill you?” Spritz snapped, but there wasn’t much venom there. He shook his head, exasperated and took a step back, opening the door. “Fine.”

Richie walked in quickly before he changed his mind, and Spritz closed the door behind him. “Thank you. I’ll sleep on the floor, or whatever. I just don’t want to be in a room by myself.”

Spritz nodded and went over to crawl back into bed, pulling the covers up without a word. Richie took that as an agreement and grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and folded it up on the floor, at the foot of the bed, pulling half of it across himself. He already felt more comfortable, even if he was on the cold, hard floor. And it was, cold and hard. He tossed and turned for a little while, trying to find a position where his hip bones weren’t digging into the ground painfully.

“Oh my god, just get up here,” he heard from the bed, his voice aggravated.

“No, I’m fine. I swear.”

“If you keep moving around down there, I’m kicking you out. So either get your ass in this bed or leave.”

Richie hopped up without another moment of hesitation, bringing his blanket with him. He slid in under the blanket on the other side of the bed from Spritz, facing the other man’s back.

He closed his eyes, listening closely to the sound of Spritz breathing. It was comforting in its own way. After about five minutes, though, his mind was still spinning. God. He fucking hated his anxiety.

“Spritz…you asleep?” he whispered and immediately heard a groan in response.

“What?”

“I just want you to know,” he started and paused. Spritz flipped over to face him somewhat reluctantly it seemed, his head laying on the pillow in parallel with his own. “I want you to know that I...thought you wanted that, back there. You know? Like, I wouldn’t have done that if I knew you didn’t. I’m not that much of an asshole. I promise.”

“It’s fine, whatever,” Spritz said with a soft breath. Richie had to fight an urge to move closer. “I just…I have a rule,” he told him, and Richie saw his shoulders pull up in a shrug.

“Okay,” he responded, biting his lip. He let the silence settle in between them for a moment, before he broke it again. “Spritz?”

“Yeah?” His voice was softer now.

“Anyone ever told you rules are meant to be broken?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comments and kudos are my lifeblood ✌🏼


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I got a bit carried away and finished this much earlier than I thought lol. It was just like super fun to write and I just rolled with it. 
> 
> I do apologize in advance to Mr. Hader. I mean no ill will toward Bill. I cherish him deeply as a human being. I blame Zombieland. 🤷🏻♀️
> 
> Love and peace – enjoy :D

Eddie woke up in a warm, comfortable haze, not quite opening his eyes yet as he pressed his face into the soft pillow below his head. If he didn’t think too hard, he could imagine that he wasn’t in a roadside motel in the middle of nowhere during the zombie apocalypse. Sometimes it was important to allow yourself those moments, even if they didn’t last.

As his fantasy faded into still reality, though, he noticed when he tried to move his hand, that there were fingers entwined with his own, and it was in that moment that all of his senses seemed to tune into exactly what was happening at the same time. The warm, soft puffs of breath on the back of his neck tickling his hair, the line of another body form-fitted along his back, providing a cocoon-like envelopment. T’s arm was wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him close, their legs tangled together under the blankets. He let out a shuddery breath, keeping his eyes closed. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to explain why he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disrupt this, or do anything to change the current situation.

He noticed the moment that T woke up, the rhythm of his breath changing and his body going rigid. Almost imperceptibly, his fingers tightened around Eddie’s, before he was trying to pull them away. Eddie tightened his own fingers quickly, not letting him move. “Don’t,” Eddie said quietly, and he felt T’s body relax again behind him, pressing his nose to the nape of Eddie’s neck.

They laid there like that for a while, until Eddie felt the soft press of T’s lips against the back of his neck, once, tentative, and then again when Eddie let out a shaky breath. T pulled his fingers out of Eddie’s grasp and Eddie whined quietly, but then he was slipping them under the hem of his t-shirt, pressing warm against his stomach, holding him closer.

“Is that okay?” T asked, his lips finding the spot under his ear, pressing dry and warm there, and Eddie shivered, eyes squeezing closed, making a noise that he hoped translated as an affirmative. T seemed to understand because he didn’t remove his hand, but started to trace absent patterns on Eddie’s stomach, making him feel like he was being flipped inside out. He rolled over onto his back in a split second, and was face to face with T, who looked down at him, his lips parted slightly, a mildly sleepy look in his eyes. Eddie reached up and let his fingers catch in the soft ringlets of black hair that hung in front of his eyes. He looked different without his glasses on, softer and a little younger. Eddie took in a breath before he pulled T’s head down to capture his lips in a kiss, which T accepted easily, his fingers curling where they still were on Eddie’s stomach. And Eddie just fell pliant and willing in his embrace, letting it happen, and shutting everything else out momentarily, as they found each other. His own hand reached up, pressing, open-palmed against T’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tshirt as they kissed.

Slowly, warily almost, he reached down and wrapped his fingers around T’s hand on his stomach, gently urging it downward, to the waist of his shorts. He felt T’s breath catch against his lips as he opened his eyes and met Eddie’s gaze. “You sure?” he asked, a million questions seeming to be tied up in those two words, and Eddie answered all of them with a nod.

T took it from there almost too slowly, taking his dear sweet time. He let his fingers dance around the waistband of Eddie’s shorts for a few moments, teasingly dipping under and pulling back, until Eddie gave an annoyed little groan, pushing his hips up toward his hand. So T pushed his hand under and in one motion, had his fingers wrapped around Eddie, stroking him painfully slow. T moved his lips to Eddie’s jaw, brushing open-mouthed against his skin there. Eddie felt himself coming undone, jerking his hips up and into T’s grip when the other man twisted his hand in just the right way. He felt him pressing his own hips against Eddie’s thigh and he could feel just how much it was turning him on, doing this to him.

“Fuck, you look good,” T was saying, pulling away to look at him, his pupils blown. He took his hand away, then and Eddie was about to protest when T straddled his lap, pulling his shorts down, shifting the energy in a way the made Eddie’s toes curl as he reached up, his hands finding the other’s hips. “Do you want me to..?” T asked, meeting Eddie’s eyes, his tongue tracing along his bottom lip, before his eyes darted down to his cock.

It took Eddie a second to realize what he was saying, but then he got it. “Oh—um. Yes. Yeah, please,” he got out quickly, his heart beating faster in his chest.

T ducked down then, taking Eddie into his mouth like it was a task he relished accomplishing. And when he moaned around him, Eddie thought for sure he was gonna lose it. But he didn’t, yet, his hands finding the back of T’s head, tangling in his soft curls, just for something to help ground himself. “F-fuck,” he got out shakily, pulling on his hair, as T took him like _all _the way down, Eddie’s hips jerking involuntarily. “Oh, shit, sorry, I—”

T pulled off, looking up at him, his lips red and swollen. And Eddie realized that he’d been wrong the other day, when they first met. _This _was the look that fit the best on T’s gorgeous fucking mouth. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice wrecked. “I can take it.” He kept his hand moving on Eddie as he spoke, before lowering back down, keeping his eyes on him.

It was when he realized that T had his free hand down below, touching himself, like this, sucking him off was just too much for him, he needed his own release, that Eddie felt himself drawing close to the edge. “Oh god. I’m gonna—” he warned, pulling on his hair to urge him off, but T didn’t listen, just kept moving his hand, squeezing Eddie’s base just as he came, T taking it down like a fucking champ. He pulled off slowly, almost reluctant, and pulled Eddie’s shorts back up over him, before coming back up to lie down next to him on his back.

Eddie rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He reached down to try and return the favor, but T wasn’t hard. The other guy looked over at him, his expression exhausted but post-orgasmic in a beautiful fucking way. It almost made Eddie angry. Made him want to kiss him again. God. What had he _done? _

“Oh, yeah…that’s okay. Mission accomplished,” T said, his voice still rough as he flashed a thumbs up at Eddie. “It’s times like these, that you really miss a good old fashioned shower.”

Eddie scrunched up his nose, and let out a chuckle, which felt giddy breaking out of his chest. Because god. _God. _He’d actually fucking done that. What was he thinking? To push the thought away, for the moment anyway, he leaned down and kissed him again, his hand cupping the side of his face, opening himself up to him. 

As they kissed, T reached over to the bedside table and pushed his glasses onto his nose as he broke off the kiss. “Oh, okay good. It is you, I was a little bit worried, since I couldn’t see shit,” he said with a smirk.

Eddie shoved at his arm, hard, and T laughed, pecking his lips again, before he stood up, stretching his arms over his head. Eddie watched him, eyes scanning over his torso and hips, drinking him in. It felt wrong, and right all at the same time and made his stomach do flips. He thought he might be sick.

“Alright, I’m gonna go, try and clean myself up, I guess,” T told him, watching Eddie’s face. It felt like there was something that needed to be said, but for the life of him, Eddie didn’t know what it was, so he stayed quiet.

T cracked a smile and leaned back down to kiss him again, and Eddie kissed back, but pulled away after a second, grimacing. “Okay, yeah, your mouth kinda tastes like jizz, so you should go brush your teeth or whatever,” he told him.

T wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Whose fault is that?” he asked, but went to the door.

* * *

Richie walked out onto the motel balcony, shutting the door quietly behind himself, and looking around. Just a second later, though, the door to the next room opened up, and Red was backing out of Stutter’s room. Richie just stood there and stared at her until she turned and saw him, jumping in surprise.

“Fuck,” she muttered, her hand going over her heart.

“What are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She glanced at Spritz’s door, where he was still standing and frowned at him. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said. When he didn’t respond, his expression unwavering, she groaned, and walked toward him. “I was having a nightmare, okay? And you weren’t in your room, and, like, I knew you were probably in there with _him._So I didn’t want to interrupt or whatever. So I went in there. Nothing happened. He’s just…been through a lot of the same stuff as me, so we just talked for a while. It was nice,” she said and blushed.

Richie cracked a smile. “Bev, that’s so sweet,” he said kindly and she rolled her eyes.

“Red,” she muttered.

“So are you two like, friends now?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and following her toward her room. She went in and he stood at the doorway, leaning on the frame.

“We are two people who have been affected by the current zombie apocalypse in very similar ways. That’s all,” she said, frowning at him. “But let’s not talk about me. You weren’t in your room last night, either,” she said.

Richie grinned. “Yeah, you can say that again,” he said.

“So…you two?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve always kissed and told before, even when I ask you not to, so I don’t know why anything would have changed now, but that’s nice. Good for you,” she said, going through her bag, pulling out a change of clothes. She glanced at him and narrowed her eyes. “You’re smiling,” she said.

“Yeah, and?”

“No, like, goofy, giddy smiling. What the fuck is going on?”

“I just had an orgasm, not fifteen minutes ago. What do you think? Like, there’s cum drying in my pants as we speak.”

“Ew. Seriously, Rich, what the fuck is wrong with you?” she said. He didn’t point out that she’d used his real name. Every once in a while she slipped, if it was just them. It was nice to hear sometimes. There were times he felt like he could forget how it sounded, like he could forget that was even him. “Do we need to have another discussion about personal boundaries? Like information it’s okay and not okay to tell me?”

“No, I remember the last one vividly.”

“Okay. Good. And where would telling me that you ejaculated in your pants fall?”

“Probably in the ‘don’t tell’ column.”

“Then fucking _don’t tell me._” She paused and sighed, pushing a hand through her red, messy bob. “Anyway. That’s not what I meant. I know your just-hooked-up face. And this is different. You look like a fucking puppy.”

“You’re imagining things,” he said. “I’m just happy that I got off.”

“You know we’re still traveling with them, right?”

“Yeah. And I’m sure we’ll probably hook up again. If I have anything to say about it.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What? He’s cute. Like really cute. And he has a super hot come face.” When she groaned, he let out a sigh. “Sorry, right. _Don’t tell _column.”

“I’m just saying, don’t get ahead of yourself. You know the rule.”

“C’mon, Red. Look who you’re talking to,” he said and spun around in front of her like a runway model. “Me? Get attached? I’m a fucking stud. In and out whenever I want.”

“Right,” she said slowly. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Now go take care of yourself. You fuckin’ weirdo,” she told him, throwing a loving smile and a pack of wet naps in his direction.

* * *

They reached Los Angeles three days after they left the motel, stopping more often as they took their time. Nothing was rushed after all. By the time they hit California, Eddie thought he was probably going to lose his goddamn mind, though. It turned out, that once they’d started things, T was absolutely insatiable. Every opportunity he got, when they pulled over or stopped for the night, he was pulling Eddie off to the side, his hands down his pants at the word go. There had even been a couple of times, when they were both in the backseat, that he’d catch T’s wandering hand in his lap, and he’d have to smack him off, pinching him until he squeaked. But sometimes that only seemed to rev him up even more. And Eddie wanted to hate it. He wanted to be annoyed, or aggravated by the whole thing, but as soon as T had him pushed up against the wall of a gas station bathroom or was down on his knees in front of him with that patented smirk on his lips, Eddie couldn’t remember why he ever would have _not _wanted this. He just kept telling himself, though, that just because they had a little, _sexual _arrangement of sorts, didn’t mean that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve and giving himself up without a second thought. It was just sex, after all. Great, mind-blowing orgasms. It was that simple, really.

He was starting to wonder how many times it was possible for a guy to get off in the span of seventy-two hours when the highway signs started to read that Los Angeles was coming up in fewer and fewer miles.

When the buildings started to look more and more expensive and the roads nicer and nicer, Red was the first one to say, “Alright, so we’re definitely gonna hit the Hills, right?”

Eddie glanced out the window, spotting palm trees for miles. He’d never been in a city that actually had palm trees lining the streets.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” Stutter responded with a smile from behind the wheel.

“You know where we should go?” T said beside him, his fingers edging under Eddie’s thigh. Eddie flicked him. “Ow,” he hissed, but didn’t remove his hand. “Only the house of the best comedian in LA.”

“Oh my god,” Red said and turned around to look at him.

At the same time, they both said, “Bill Hader.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Stutter said with a nod. Up ahead there was a sign that pointed to Beverly Hills. He turned in that direction.

“Uh, sorry,” Eddie said. “But…who is that?”

T pulled his hand away quickly and looked at him with wide, astonished eyes. “You don’t know who Bill Hader is? What the fuck, Spritz?”

“Only the best thing that ever happened to Saturday Night Live, an underappreciated gem of his time. I need to see his place. I bet it’s like, so fucking cool,” Stutter interjected.

“I bet he has the Stefon outfit and everything,” Red mused dreamily.

“Okay, there’s a map. You two, get out and grab it,” Stutter said, pulling over. There was a large map of the Hills, underneath was a container of paper versions. The downside was, there were zombies roaming everywhere. It was LA, after all.

T grabbed his gun, as Eddie did the same and they both climbed out. T immediately shot a zombie over his shoulder, and Eddie nodded. “Thanks,” he said with a small smile.

“Of course, babe,” T purred and they sprinted toward the sign. T snagged a map as Eddie knifed a zombie in the gut and then the head, kicking it away.

They sprinted back and clambered back into the backseat, slamming the door shut, T practically falling on top of him. “Hey there,” he said with a smirk, eyes darting to Eddie’s lips. Eddie rolled his eyes and shoved him off, catching his breath.

He grabbed the map from T and opened it up, studying it. “Okay, so it looks like you’re gonna take a right up here,” he said and proceeded to list off directions until they were parked in front of a huge house, the initials WTH on the front gate.

“W?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, William,” Stutter responded with a curious smile.

“Alright, let’s go check this bitch out,” T said.

Stutter smiled and revved the engine before moving the car forward. The gate snapped open easily when it was hit by the front of the car. They all hopped out and went up to the front of the house, peering in the ceiling high windows at the comedian’s foyer. Red pulled out a bobby pin and got the door open in under thirty seconds.

“Think that was a record?” she asked, looking at T.

“Eh. I’ve seen you do faster,” he said, already walking through the front door.

Walking into the house was like walking into a cathedral, with extraordinarily high ceilings and a huge portrait of some guy on the wall that Eddie didn’t recognize. He guessed it was Bill Hader.

“Wow,” T breathed, before he ran up to the curved staircase, going to the top, only to slide down the bannister. “I think this is the single greatest place I’ve been in my life,” he said and Stutter and Red made sounds of agreement, each walking into different rooms to explore. Eddie followed T into a separate parlor, where there was a wall of different framed memorabilia. “Oh my god, it’s the Californians wig,” he said, running around the room, pointing out different items. “And the box from The Alan cut for time!”

Eddie just watched with an amused grin, following him around.

“I can’t _believe _you don’t know who Bill Hader is--” he gasped as he saw a small framed ID card on the wall. “Oh my god. It’s the McLovin ID card from Superbad. How the hell does he have that?” he said and lifted his hand to take the frame off the wall. “I mean, this guy has a direct line to my funny bone. I grew up watching Bill Hader. He was like…my role model,” he admitted, looking over at Eddie with a sheepish grin. “I kind of always wanted to be a comedian? You know, like, if things hadn’t gone so south so quickly with the zombies and everything.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said, his voice soft. Something pulled inside him, wanting to hear more about T, from before, who he was, what he liked. He knew that he was falling in too deep, but he wasn’t sure there was any going back now.

“Yeah…it was just one of those stupid dreams, you know? I was never really good at anything. But I could make people laugh. It was like my only skill. Even if half the time, it was annoyed laughter. I loved getting a laugh out of someone.” He blushed slightly and looked away, putting the frame back on the wall.

They kept walking through the house, eventually happening upon a small in-home theater room. The back wall was lined with tapes, each individually labelled. Most said “SNL—” and then a season number and a title.

“Oh, dude,” T said giddily. “I’m about to give you a lesson in Haderisms,” he said, quickly, grabbing a tape that read “SNL – Stefon clips” and firing up the old-fashioned tape player, that began to project onto the large screen at the front. The room was set up like a theater from the forties or something, with red velvet seats and billowy, sound-proofed walls. Eddie went ahead and took a seat in one of the chairs in the middle of the room, before T came over and joined him. “Okay,” he said. “So this is like, his most-famous character from SNL, he—”

“Shut up so I can actually watch it,” Eddie snapped, but flashed him a grin. T let out a chuckle and put his hand on Eddie’s thigh comfortably, fingers curling on his skin. Eddie gently placed his hand over his, interlocking their fingers as the tape began to play.

Eddie watched as two men on screen, sitting behind a news desk, started chatting about clubs or something. It was funny, he could admit that. He’d never really watched Saturday Night Live. Sketch Comedy wasn’t really his thing. He was more of a video games and sci-fi movies kind of a guy. But the best part about it, was watching T’s face light up right before a clip he knew was good. He would squeeze Eddie’s thigh, and explain what Hader was about to say, half muffling out the words as he excitedly spoke about him. It was kind of cute, and Eddie couldn’t help his grin.

As the film puttered to an end, the door at the back of the theater swung open and T jumped up, grabbing his gun. Without hesitation, he shot the zombie that had walked into the room in the chest.

“No!” It was Stutter, running into the room as the zombie fell into one of the chairs. Eddie realized, with wide eyes, that the zombie looked a whole lot like the Hader guy that they’d just been watching, only with a white face, blacked out eyes and, what, at a closer glance looked like make up making it look like bile was dripping from his lips. Yep. It was definitely Bill Hader, in zombie make up.

Red and Stutter came over to them, and stared wide eyed and horrified. “Oh my god, Trashmouth!” Red screeched, staring at T.

T gasped, holding a hand over his mouth. Bill Hader was staring at him. “Is that how you say hello where you come from?” he said, his breath coming out in wheezing gasps.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I shot Bill Hader,” he said and looked at Eddie who put a hand on his shoulder with a frown. “What the hell are you doing in zombie makeup?”

“It was a prank,” Bill said, pulling his shoulders up in a shrug. “Your friends thought it would be funny. T glared at Red.

Stutter was staring at him. “We…we could patch this up,” he said, poking gently at the wound in the middle of his chest.

Bill hissed. “Careful. That’s still tender,” he said.

“You think you’ll pull through, Mr. Hader?” Stutter asked.

“Bill, I think, is fine now.” Bill frowned, then deadpanned, “But No. No I don’t think so.”

Eddie looked at the dying man with a small sigh. “Any regrets?” he asked quietly, to fill the space. 

Bill seemed to consider for a moment and chuckled. “Angry Birds, maybe?” he said and groaned. He closed his eyes then and let out an endless breath.

After a while, T broke the silence. “You think he’s dead?” he asked and poked Bill’s shoulder.

“Fucking asshole,” Red said and shoved T’s shoulder, hard. He hissed.

“Sorry! It’s an instinct! You see a zombie, you shoot it. You think I wanted to kill Bill Hader?!”

* * *

They gave Bill a proper send-off, in the back yard, giving him a three-volley salute to pay their respects. Eddie stood close to T as he shook his head, utterly devastated by what happened. “I just can’t believe…” to which Eddie just responded, “you couldn’t have known,” over and over again. Eventually they made their way back inside as it started to get dark.

Inside, Red grabbed a bottle of vodka from Hader’s kitchen and got it open as they all gathered in the grand living room. She poured each of them a shot and passed them around. “To Bill Hader,” she said, holding her glass up.

“To Bill Hader,” they said in unison and downed their shots.

They all sat in the living room for a while. Stutter, Red and T swapped stories of the first time they’d watched SNL, or seen Hader in something, while Eddie listened. Eventually, T’s eyes found his, and he cocked his head, clearly indicating that they should slip away. Eddie rolled his eyes and shook his head. T frowned, and made a lewd gesture with his hand and his mouth, winking at him. Eddie gasped, scandalized. And then Stutter looked at him, and then at T.

“What is going—”

Red sighed and shook her head. “Trashmouth’s trying to get Spritz to go suck his dick, probably. Ever the classy gentleman.”

“Wait,” Stutter said slowly. “Are you two…?”

Red raised an eyebrow. “They’ve been going at it, since like, the first day we started traveling together, dude. I’m honestly a little concerned that you’re only just now realizing this,” she said and laughed.

“I mean, we haven’t exactly been subtle,” T said with a shrug.

Eddie’s face was bright red. “Oh my god,” he muttered, putting his face to his hand, shaking his head.

Stutter was red as well, not looking directly at anyone. “Oh, well, that’s uh—good for you guys.”

Eddie stood up and jerked his head, meeting T’s eyes. They walked out of the room together and Eddie looked to him. “You’re such a fucking dumbass.”

“What? Does it matter if he knows?” T asked. They were already walking up the stairs together.

“No, I just—” Eddie paused, not exactly sure why he cared. The only thing he could think was that that made it more _real. _“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” He pushed the door open to the master bedroom and pulled T inside. He shut the door behind himself and turned, biting his bottom lip as he looked him up and down, before pushing him backward toward the bed.

T fell back onto the bed when the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he smirked up at Eddie, his hands going to his sides. “Oh, alright, I see,” he said, already moving his hands up under Eddie’s shirt as Eddie straddled his lap, fingers going into T’s hair. Eddie leaned down and kissed him slowly, letting the pace ease into something soft again. He liked it when they moved slow, just mapping each other out. He liked memorizing the feeling of his lips against his own, the way his tongue felt in his mouth. It was nice when it was hot and rushed too, of course, but sometimes Eddie just really wanted to _feel _it.

“Hey, Spritz?” T was saying when Eddie leaned down, pressing kisses along his throat. He hummed in response, letting him know he was listening. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked and Eddie pulled back, his eyes wide. He hesitated, lips parted as his thoughts seemed to run into each other, a fucking trainwreck in his mind. “We can go slow,” T said, his fingers coming up, brushing at his hair, his thumb tracing along his bottom lip.

Eddie let out a breath, catching T’s thumb between his teeth gently. He nodded. He bit down lightly on his thumb as T watched him, and then pulled back. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”

T nodded and flipped them over, so that Eddie laid against the pillows, T on top of him, between his legs. His hands traced along Eddie’s sides, down to his hips, where he squeezed lightly. Eddie wrapped his legs around him, holding T’s face down to his own.

“We need, like stuff, though, right?” Eddie said, pulling away for a moment. T made a small, disappointed noise and sat up.

“I wonder,” he said under his breath. He reached over to Bill’s nightstand and opened the top drawer. “Jackpot,” he said and laughed, pulling out a small container of lube and a condom.

“How did you know..?”

“Just a feeling,” T said and shrugged, before leaning back over him, catching his lips in a kiss, more heated this time. He pulled away, only to pull Eddie’s shirt off over his head, tossing it to the ground somewhere. He pulled his own off while he was at it and just looked at Eddie for a moment, tracing his fingers over his chest. “You’re really pretty,” he said quietly.

Eddie blushed and rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he snapped.

“What? You are. _So_fucking pretty.” He leaned down and kissed Eddie’s collarbone and down his chest. He put a hand on his thigh and squeezed gently. “Relax,” he said, as his fingers found his waistband, pushing his shorts down over his hips. Eddie lifted his hips in response and let T undress him, trying not to think about how hard his heart was beating in his chest. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He heard the sound as T threw his shorts and underwear somewhere and then he pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, sweet and gentle, and Eddie opened his eyes again. “If you’re not comfortable, tell me,” T said quietly, and Eddie nodded.

T reached down and stroked him a couple of times, and Eddie responded in turn, his breath shortening as he pushed into his touch. “Don’t do that too much, I’ll be done for,” he managed, his hands going to T’s shoulders finger nails digging in there.

T nodded and grabbed the lube. “Alright, I’m just gonna stretch you out,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to his lips before he sat back, between Eddie’s legs, spreading some lube on his fingers before he pressed one to Eddie’s hole. Eddie let out a small whimper as T started to push his finger in. He sat up on his elbows a bit to see him better. “That okay?” T asked, meeting his eyes. Eddie nodded, watching his face. After a moment, the stretch increased and he hissed, realizing he must have added another finger. T leaned forward and cupped the back of Eddie’s head, bringing him in to kiss his lips again.

When he added a third finger, Eddie groaned, his hips jerking when T curled them in a certain way that made him feel like his whole body was on fire. He bit down on T’s bottom lip. “Do that again,” he got out, and heard the moan from the back of T’s throat as he pushed him back against the bed and hit that angle again. Eddie’s hands went to his hair, hips moving restlessly. “Okay, come on,” he said. “You need to do it now before I come.”

T nodded eagerly and pulled his fingers out, eliciting a whimper from Eddie, who watched him as he ripped the condom packet open and rolled it on. “You want…you want to do it like this?” T asked, his eyes wide as he looked at Eddie. “Or on your stomach?”

Eddie thought for a second. “Like this,” he said. “I want to see you,” he admitted, his cheeks turning pink.

T let out a noise at that and leaned over him, kissing his lips as he used one hand to line himself up. Eddie gasped against his lips as he felt him pressing against his hole. He started to push in and Eddie groaned, his arms wrapping around his neck. “Fuck, T,” he muttered.

T hesitated above him, and Eddie watched his face, worried for a second that something was wrong. It didn’t feel wrong. “I want you to say my name,” he said after a moment, and Eddie saw something there, in his eyes that he didn’t recognize.

“What, Trashmouth?” Eddie said, scrunching up his nose. That sounded weird. He rolled his hips impatiently, and T bit back a moan.

“No, no. Fuck.” He braced a hand against the bed. “Richie,” he said and met Eddie’s eyes. “My name is Richie…”

Eddie’s eyes widened, not expecting that. “Okay, Richie,” he said quietly, his fingers pushing into the curls at the back of his head.

Richie smiled, and Eddie felt like his heart was beating out of his chest when he saw it. That smile felt like everything right then. He started to move again then, pushing his hips forward more, stretching Eddie open until he felt like he was going to burst.

“Fuck, _fuck,” _Eddie breathed, his legs wrapping around him, squeezed around Richie’s waist. “St-stop for a second,” he breathed, and Richie did, his hand cupping the side of his face, watching him worriedly.

“You okay?” he breathed and Eddie bit his lip and nodded, letting out a breath when Richie started to press kisses all over his face. “Tell me when to move…”

Eddie took a deep breath, rolling his hips experimentally and letting out a groan at the feeling. He was so fucking big. Much bigger than his fingers had been. “Okay, go,” he said after a moment, and Richie listened, starting to pull out again before he pushed back in, faster this time. He let out a shuddering breath against Eddie’s lips, working his hips into a rhythm. He seemed to be adjusting the angle every so often, until he heard Eddie gasp. “Fuck, Richie,” he breathed, as he pushed into that spot from before, that just felt so _good. _

“Yeah, babe? There?” Richie said against his jaw bone, pushing into that same spot over and over again until Eddie thought that he was going to lose his mind. His toes curled and he could feel himself going toward the edge, even though he wasn’t touching himself.

“God, you look so good,” Richie said, nipping at his bottom lip, his hips slowing down slightly, only to push in harder. Eddie teetered on the breaking point. “So fucking good for me,” Richie breathed. “Wanted you from the first second I saw you, baby.”

“God, Richie,” Eddie huffed out, his toes curling. He knew Richie was coming when his hips started to jerk sporadically, slowing down after a moment. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Eddie, giving him just a couple of strokes that were enough to send him over the edge, moaning his name.

They laid there like that for a moment, Richie’s lips hovering over his collarbone, until he finally pulled out, Eddie’s body melting down into the bed. Richie laid down in the space beside him, his arm wrapped around him, and his forehead pressed to his shoulder, like he just couldn’t stop touching him. Eddie’s skin felt like it was simmering, coming down from some great high. He closed his eyes.

“Don’t tell Red I told you that,” Richie said after a few moments.

“Hm?” Eddie hummed, not opening his eyes.

“Don’t tell her you know my name. She’ll throw a fit,” he said quietly, his fingers tracing absently over Eddie’s chest.

“Oh, sure. Yeah, whatever.”

There was a moment of silence that passed between them, before Richie said, hesitantly, “So…I showed you mine. You gonna show me yours?” And Eddie opened his eyes, looking over at him.

“Maybe another time, Trashmouth,” he responded quietly, pushing at his shoulder and letting out a chuckle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meta enough for you? disclaimer: all of the dialogue from the Bill Hader scene is almost directly from Zombieland the movie. That is not mine like at all. and I probably even messed that up...
> 
> I know, it was like 75 percent smut...I would apologize, but I'm not that sorry 😬 don't worry, angst is coming😈
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading! 😘 let me know what you thought!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, some good ol' fashioned angst for you 😘
> 
> enjoy!

They fell into a kind of domestic haze. The four of them grew comfortable with each other as the days passed in Bill Hader’s house. Richie hardly even realized a month had passed until he looked out the window one day and noticed that the leaves in the trees were starting to change. The goal of making it to the camp outside of LA hadn’t been mentioned in a while. And honestly, to him, it was just as well. There had always been a part of him that had figured there probably wasn’t anything there anyway. Bev had just been so excited about the idea. It had given her something to distract herself, something to focus on other than Ben’s death. So he hadn’t said anything. But now Bev actually seemed happy. He’d seen her smile more in the last couple of weeks than he’d seen in months, and he certainly wasn’t going to do anything to alert her to that fact. And if he saw her eyes light up just a little bit when she was talking to Stutter, and their hands brush when they were in the kitchen together, he wouldn’t alert her to that either.

He also couldn’t deny that he was happier than he’d been in a long time as well. He and Spritz had taken up camp in Hader’s room (which yes, was weird, but was also like a fucked up dream come true, So Richie wasn’t complaining). And he’d gotten way too comfortable falling asleep with his nose pressed into Spritz’s hair, holding the smaller man against his chest. He couldn’t help it if he was a human space heater. And in a world without electricity and internal heat, it was nice to wake up with someone warm pressed against your chest.

And the guy was funny, like really funny. He could give it back to Richie just as well as he could take it and Richie felt his heart swell every time he did. Not to mention, the sex was _great_. Like really fucking awesome. And Richie was starting to get addicted to the sound that Spritz made when Richie kissed his lips to get him to shut up about diseases and first aid kit preparation and whatever the fuck else Spritz talked about. And that smile, the warm, soft upward curve of his lips that he gave him afterward, when Richie would pull away. God. That was everything.

Did it bother him that Spritzy hadn’t told him his name yet? Yes. Yes, it fucking did. He’d thought about it endlessly, but the guy just wouldn’t give in. It was like something was holding him back. So instead, Richie was stuck, feeling exposed after giving up that information himself. But there was a reason he’d told Spritz his name, and there was still a part of him that didn’t regret it at all. Because despite being rather closed mouth about his own name, whenever they were alone, Spritz only called Richie, well, _Richie. _And it made him feel all warm and bubbly inside every time he did. It made him feel like himself again, a feeling that he hadn’t had in a very long time. And he noticed, also, that the more Spritz used his name, the more he told him. Like all of a sudden he needed this guy to know who he was, who he had been before everything happened. It seemed important.

So yeah, he was fully aware that he was falling into a deep, dangerous pit. But as long at Bev didn’t find out, maybe things would be okay.

“Hey, Rich?” Spritz was lying beside him in bed, his hair all ruffled and his lips red and a little swollen. God. He looked good like that.

Richie hummed in response, still lazy from the orgasm he’d just had. They were lying in bed, his arm around the other man’s shoulders, hand mindlessly playing with his hair. The only thought on his mind was how good Spritz was at giving blowjobs.

“Tell me about yourself.”

Richie turned his head slightly to see Spritz staring at him, watching his face expectantly. “What do you mean?” Richie asked, frowning at him.

“I mean...like who you _were_. You know, before...all of this,” he said, gesturing to the general space around them.

Richie’s frown only deepened. “Oh...why?”

“I want to know.” The statement was so plaintive and innocent that, Richie’s gaze instinctively softened.

“Okay. What do you wanna know?”

“Anything. Tell me anything.”

He hesitated, trying to think what would be the best thing to say. He didn’t know that he’d ever been put in a similar situation before. “Um,” he muttered intelligently. “Well...before everything with the zombies and whatever. I had a very passionate, firey affair...” He watched as Spritz’s eyes widened, the tops of his cheeks turning bright red. It was adorable. “Yes, it was the best sex I’ve ever had. Your mother was a dynamite in the sack, Spritz.”

“Oh my god. Do not joke about fucking my mother when I’m lying in bed naked with you,” Spritz shot back, shoving at his arm, hard.

Richie laughed and rubbed at the spot. It actually kind of hurt. The kid was stronger than he looked. “Okay, okay. Fine. But This isn’t a one way street. How about this, you ask a question, I ask a question. Sound good?”

Spritz’s hesitation went on just long enough for Richie to understand that he wasn’t totally comfortable with the idea. But eventually, he said, “Okay. Fine. What were your parents like?”

Richie wrinkled his nose, narrowing his eyes at him. “Y’know, Spritzy, people typically start with soft ball questions in this kind of game,” he said and sighed, shaking his head. “But okay, let’s see,” he muttered. “My parents were both alcoholics who really couldn’t have given less of a shit about me and my existence if they tried,” he said, almost as if the words were rehearsed. “My father was an angry drunk and my mother was a sad drunk, basically walking middle class family stereotypes…and they did me the favor of passing their fondness for the bottle onto me.” He glanced at him only to see him listening intently, no real expression or reaction readable on his features. “Same question.”

“That’s not fair. You can’t repeat questions.”

“Don’t start with the rules, Spritz. Just answer the question.”

He sighed, long and dragged out. “I didn’t really know my dad,” he told him. “He died when I was pretty young-- cancer. My mom was…protective, to say the least.” He flushed, looking up at the ceiling. Richie moved a bit closer, resting his head on Spritz’s chest, splaying his fingers over his side. “She was a paranoid hypochondriac, a little bit agoraphobic. She told me that I was fragile, and kept me on meds most of my childhood just to keep me believing it.”

Richie picked up his head, frowning intensely was he watched his face. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Spritz said and gave a half smile. Richie could see the sadness in his eyes. “I wish I was joking, trust me.”

“Well you make my upbringing sound like Mary fuckin’ Poppins.”

Spritz shrugged and Richie could feel the movement in his own chest. “Yeah, well,” he muttered. “Okay, next question…what’s your favorite kind of music?”

“God. You’re all over the place aren’t you. Um, probably like classic rock?”

Spritz made a sound and rolled his eyes. “Of course it is.”

“What? What’s wrong with rock and roll, baby?” he asked, sitting up and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Okay, your question is…tell me about the first zombie you killed.”

“Not a question.”

“Answer! Now,” he demanded, poking his chest.

“Okay, okay,” Spritz muttered and rolled his eyes, shoving Richie’s finger away. “Um, so, I was in my apartment, and I was just watching TV, you know, some stupid movie probably. I don’t even remember.” He sighed, his cheeks flushing slightly as he tried to think. Richie watched him with a cocky smirk playing on his lips. “And this guy knocked on my door. A neighbor of mine.”

His cheeks really flared up then and Richie gasped in realization. “You liked him, didn’t you?”

“What? No. I mean, he was cute, yeah, but…” he trailed off.

“Oh my god. You killed the hot boy next door. Spritz, that’s fucking tragic…”

“Shut up and let me talk, geez,” Spritz said with a groan. “So he knocked on my door, and came in, all distraught and confused, rambling about some homeless dude on the street who had attacked him, even bitten his ankle. So, naturally, I offered him a cup of tea and told him that I would call the cops for him…”

“You wanted to bang him, didn’t you?” Richie smirked. He knew the answer.

“No. I did not want to bang him. I was being a good neighbor.”

“You _totally _wanted to bang him. Stop lying to me.”

“Whatever. Anyway. He was like super exhausted from the whole thing, and shaken up. So I told him to lay down and rest for a bit on my couch.”

“Did you watch him sleep?”

“Okay. I’m done. You don’t get to hear the rest.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop. As long as you admit you totally wanted to fuck zombie boy.”

He loved the way Spritz got all flustered and freaked out before he said, “I didn’t…not think that that might, possibly, be something that could happen…”

“Okay,” Richie said, satisfied. “Continue.”

Spritz rolled his eyes. “Alright. So there he was, on my couch, and I went about my business, when all of a sudden, he woke up. And he looked, like really sick.”

“Like feverish and pale?”

“Exactly. His eyes were all dark, but his skin had gone almost translucent, and he was walking toward me, his arms, kinda like hanging at his side.”

Richie couldn’t help himself. “So is this when you decided you didn’t want to fuck him anymore? Or was that after?” 

Spritz didn’t even acknowledge the comment other than a soft, annoyed sigh. “And he vomited all this, disgusting, toxic bile stuff, that literally burned through my carpet. He tried to attack me, and that was when I realized something was seriously wrong.”

“Not the bile? The bile didn’t clue you in?”

“You know, like the whole experience just put me in a weird place. Let’s not overanalyze it.”

“Fair enough. So how’d you kill him?”

“You know that heavy cover part that goes over the tank on a toilet?”

“Yeah…”

Spritz gestured, swinging his arms up in the air in front of him. “Right to the head.”

“That’s bad ass.”

“Thanks. Now...tell me about the first time you had sex.”

“With a girl or a guy?” Richie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you not consider sex with girls to be real sex?”

“No, I do. It’s just…they’re two completely different times in my life. I was pretty heavily ensconced in the closet for a long time.”

“Okay, tell me about your first time with a guy then.”

“Okay,” Richie said slowly, remembering. “It was about a week after news coverage stopped,” he said. “We were at one of those safehouses, you know, where they were trying to quarantine people? Bev and I had found one that was still taking in a few stragglers…” He shrugged, looking away. He’d kind of forgotten how vulnerable the story made him sound. “And we were scared, you know? I mean, everything was happening so fast. And there was this guy, in the bunk underneath the one that I had been assigned. One night, the room was empty and he, you know, like comforted me. And it just kind of happened. It was like…a brief feeling of safety and security in all the chaos.”

“Did you…_bottom_?”

“Yeah, why?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t, uh, know you were into that.”

“You never asked. Okay, same question.”

Spritz paused, and Richie almost felt like he could read his mind. _Almost. _The silence stretched on and Richie was about to tell him that he didn’t have to say, when he finally responded, “It was you…”

Richie watched him, his eyes darting down to his lips before he leaned in, cupping the side of his face and pressing a kiss to his lips. Spritz was tense at first, but then he relaxed, kissing back, slow and warm. It was familiar at this point, but still fresh. Still something that he could do for hours and be completely happy with.

“Was it good, then?” Richie asked when he pulled away, just barely brushing his lips over his.

Spritz’s response came out breathy and light. “Yeah…yeah, it was good.”

“Good.”

* * *

Eddie woke up exactly how he’d woken up for the last two weeks, with Richie hogging the covers on the other side of the bed, curled up in a ball, snoring softly. He always managed to have at least one part of his body tucked up against Eddie though. This time it was his foot, tucked under Eddie’s thigh.

He’d never been much of a heavy sleeper, waking up pretty much as soon as there was a beam of light coming in through the window. Red was the same way, and most mornings, when he’d go downstairs, she’d already be there, eating something from Hader’s fully stocked bomb-shelter-esque pantry and reading a book. This morning was no different. He nodded to her, where she sat, reading something new. She read quickly. He thought he’d already seen her go through at least eight different decent sized novels while they’d been there.

He grabbed a Pop-Tart from the pantry and walked over to sit across from her chair on the couch.

“Sleep well?” she asked, barely looking up to raise an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. “Fine. T isn’t exactly a peaceful sleeper.”

“Yeah. I’m just glad you’re dealing with him now, and not me.”

They didn’t speak for a while, in a comfortable silence. He liked Red. He wasn’t sure how much she liked him, though. He could never fully get a read on her. Sometimes he’d catch her staring at him when he was with Richie. He couldn’t tell what exactly she was thinking, but it didn’t seem to be well wishes.

“So you guys,” Red said, breaking the silence. She shut her book and he gulped, watching her. This didn’t seem good. “How’s that going?” Yeah. This was a test.

“Oh. It’s um, fine, I guess,” he said slowly, measuring his words.

“Yeah?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “He hasn’t been talking to me that much recently. So I don’t feel like I really know.”

“Yeah, I mean,” he paused. But he didn’t even really know himself, so instead of being the well thought out little speech he wanted it to be, he just kind of rambled out, “I think we’re…getting to know each other, you know? It’s nice to, actually have someone who you can talk to, with everything going on. And Richie is just like really sweet most of the time, you know, when he’s not being a Trashmouth.” He didn’t even really realize he’d let his name slip until he’d finished talking, his eyes going wide. “Oh, I—”

“You know his name?” she asked, her voice toneless, not giving away how she felt about that.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not that big of a deal, you know?” he said, quickly. Fuck. _Fuck. _Richie was gonna be so pissed at him.

“Sure, yeah,” she said and stood up, taking her book. “I’ll see you around, Spritz,” she said as she left the room.

_Fuck. _

* * *

“You told him your name?” Red was in the bedroom, standing at the door, staring at him. Apparently she didn’t give a shit that he was laying butt ass naked in bed, with nothing but a sheet half-covering him.

“What?” Richie groaned, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his glasses, sliding them onto his face. When he finally got a look at her, he saw that she was not happy. Not one bit. She had her hands on her hips, tapping her foot incessantly. 

“Your name. You told him.”

Oh. Well, fuck. “Don’t get all worked up, Red,” he said, attempting to be casual. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, finding his boxers on the ground and sliding them on when he stood up. Red had watched him get dressed so many times, he didn’t even think about it anymore.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘_don’t get all worked up’_?” she snapped.

Okay. So she was angry. Like really angry. “I mean, it’s not so bad. It’s not like we’re getting married or anything.”

“That’s not my point, Trashmouth, and you know it.” She used that name like the insult that it was and he felt how much it stung. He hated how upset she was over this. “You knew our deal. No attachments. Either of us. And you’re attached. You’re well past attached. You’re exchanging sweet nothings and curling up by the fireplace together.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bev. Jesus Christ,” He said walking over to where she was standing. He was shaking a little bit, but he tried to cover it up with a laugh.

“Am I though, T? Am I being ridiculous?”

“Yes. You are,” he got out, his hands going to his hips. “I just wanted to hear it,” he said, his voice coming out more desperate than he’d intended. “I wanted to hear my own fucking name when someone else said it, okay? I felt like I was forgetting who I was, Bev. Don’t you get that? Don’t you see what this shit is doing to us? Is it so bad that I just wanted someone to know who I am? Maybe you’re okay with just pushing all of that away, forgetting who you were. But I’m not, okay?”

Bev seemed to consider more carefully, then, watching him. She had always been able to read him better than anyone else. Always knew what he wanted better than anyone else. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Rich,” she said, her voice soft, but with an edge, almost threatening. “What happens when you’re head over heels and he goes and gets himself killed? What are you going to do then?”

Richie’s face fell, and he clenched his jaw, unable to respond. She continued, “Because I’ll tell you, Richie. There’s absolutely nothing worse than losing someone you love out there.”

“I didn’t—no one said anything about _love, _Bev,” he snapped, honestly astonished. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You’re totally falling for Stutter,” he threw back at her, his eyebrows raised.

“Am not,” she retorted intelligently, snorting and shaking her head. “Bill is…he’s just a nice guy.”

“_Bill? _You know his name?”

“Yeah, but it’s like—that’s different,” she said, blushing. “He just got really excited when we met Bill Hader and told him that they have the same name. And like, Bill was like, ‘yeah, well, it’s a pretty common name, asshole.’ You would have liked him, Rich. If you’d have really met him.” She paused and let out a breath. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. He doesn’t know _my _name. And that’s what’s important.”

“God. Do you hear yourself? This name game is utter bullshit, Beverly. Do you think Ben would have given a flying fuck about all of this?” He knew better than to bring Ben into it, but he was pissed. He needed her to understand, so he used his trump card.

“Leave him out of this,” she seethed.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice softening. “But you get it, right? All this name hiding is stupid.”

“Alright, so what’s his, then?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Richie’s blood ran cold, and he clenched his fists, not meeting her eyes. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” She let out a laugh and Richie flinched. “Wow. You picked a good one, Rich. A hell of a lot smarter than your dumb ass. You’re gonna end up getting hurt, Richie,” she deadpanned. And he could feel her cold gaze piercing deep within him.

“I’m tired, Bev,” he said quietly. “I’m tired of running away from people…we can’t be scared of losing people we get close to. That’s just a part of life, zombie apocalypse or not.” He groaned and fidgeted with his glasses. “And what happens if you lose me, Bev? You won’t have anyone…at least if you had Stutter and Spritz you’d have someone there—”

She cut him off, “You think I don’t think about that?” He could see her eyes starting to water, though she was fighting to keep them back. “I’m absolutely terrified of losing you, Richie. But I can’t add more people. That’s just—it’s more risk.” She sniffed and looked away, shaking her head. “You know what, you do what you want…I’m going to leave. I’m gonna find that camp and see if there are any others out there, any more chance of survival. You’re welcome to join, but maybe you’re right. Maybe you and I would be better off without each other anyway.”

He watched as she walked to the door, closing it behind herself. He stood there for a long time, his feet unable to move from some unknown force. All he could think about was what she’d said, about more people being more risk. He couldn’t stand the idea of losing Spritz now. But maybe the kid was holding out on him anyway. Maybe he knew just as well as Bev not to get too attached.

It was a dog-eat-dog world, afterall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! comments make me so happy :D
> 
> haven't really read over this yet, so sorry if it's error-ridden <3
> 
> so I'm thinking this is gonna be about 6 parts now??? we'll see though, just depends on how it goes


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is much shorter than my usual chapters. I think that the next will be the last, though so it’ll probably be pretty long...
> 
> also, a little bit more suspension of disbelief is required here...I'm p sure that Paul McCartney doesn't have a house in the Hills, but let's just say he does, and that it's pretty close to Bill Hader's imaginary house in the Hills, okay? we're just rolling with the punches here, guys <3

“Where’s Red?” Stutter was standing in the kitchen when Richie came down. It had taken him a long time to finally pull some clothes on and make his way down the stairs. He’d heard the faint sound of the car door closing, and then the roar of the engine, the SUV driving off.

He’d never felt so torn in his whole fucking life.

How could he just let her go? But he couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t keep being afraid of getting close to people. It was driving him mad. And he knew that if he went with her, that was the life he was choosing. It was the hardest decision he’d ever had to make – and he could still feel it working inside him, tearing him apart from the inside. Could still hear her words ringing through his head. _You’re gonna end up getting hurt, Richie. _

“She’s running into town,” he said, hoping that his voice didn’t betray the rawness in his emotions. “Said we needed something…”

Stutter didn’t seem to notice anything off, though, because he just continued to eat the dry cereal from the cupboard. “Think she’ll be okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Yeah. She’ll be fine. Red can handle herself,” he said slowly. Richie looked around the living room, a soft frown settling on his features as he took in the empty room. It felt off. After a moment, he asked, “Where’s Spritz?”

“Oh, he went somewhere. Swore me to secrecy.”

“What the fuck? Where did he go?” Richie snapped. He spotted his gun on the coffee table, and grabbed it, immediately stuffing two ammo cartridges in his pockets.

“I’m not sure…he was looking at the Hills map, and said something about Paul McCartney’s house being close by.”

“He went…_alone_?” Richie’s heart was beating faster in his chest. “Why the hell would you let him go alone?”

“He’s a pretty capable little dude, Trashmouth. Besides, he didn’t want me to go. Something about it being something he wanted to do himself.” He shrugged, and Richie groaned in response, grabbing the map off of the kitchen counter. Sure enough, a house marked Paul McCartney was just down the street from where they were. He was headed for the garage without another word.

He’d checked out Hader’s garage a week or so ago, and managed to find the keys to his motorcycle. He’d forced himself to restrain from riding it until now, because he didn’t want to attract any zombies to their little paradise with the noise. But now, he grabbed them from the rack and started the bike up, revving the engine. He’d never actually ridden a motorcycle, and was just hoping that riding a bike as a kid would be of some use to the learning curve here. So here was hoping he didn’t fall flat on his face.

The engine had a kick to it, and almost flung him out of the seat. “Holy fuck,” he shrieked, but held on tight, getting the beast under control. _Like wrangling a fucking bull, _he thought. _This asshole better still be alive. Or I’m gonna kick his ass. _

He reached Paul McCartney’s mansion in less than five minutes, going as fast as the bike would take him without throwing himself off the seat. His heart was racing as he looked at the outside of the house. It was easily three times the size of Hader’s. He already spotted zombies roaming around outside. He hopped the fence and ran to the front door, shooting Zs on the way. The door was wide open, which didn’t exactly do much for his anxiety at that point. He shot at least two zombies just in the foyer. Any other time, he’d be freaking out, because _come on, Paul McCartney?! _But right at that moment, all he could think about was how terrified he was that he would find Spritz, bitten or dead (were they not the same thing?) in one of these endless rooms.

“Spritz!” he called, his voice echoing around him eerily as he walked through the cavernous halls. “Where the _fuck_are you, dude?” he hissed to himself, already fearing the worst. The place was like a maze of interlocking halls, galleries, and bedrooms. At one point he found himself in a bathroom that was twice the size of the apartment he and Bev used to share in New York.

He walked around slowly, spinning around every time he heard the slightest noise, cursing to himself. Then he heard it, Spritz’s voice, loud and clear, in the next room. “Mother fuckers!” He approached the door tentatively, and swung around, looking inside. It was a large gallery room, lined with guitars and outfits, all framed and on display along the walls. Richie spotted Spritz’s gun on the floor next to the door where he stood, but the other guy was across the room, bracketed by two zombies that were clawing at his clothes. Richie practically growled, lifting his own gun and shooting each zombie square between the eyes. The shots were close enough to Spritz that the other man fell to the ground, holding his hands over his ears. Richie rushed over to him and crouched down, quickly and efficiently examining his extremities for bites. He didn’t find any.

The anger bubbled up in him then as he reached out and grabbed a handful of Spritz’s shirt, eyes boring into him. “What the actual _fuck _were you thinking?” he sneered, not even bothering to hide the raw fury there.

“I…I—” Spritz was shaking, his eyes fearful as he looked back at Richie.

“Are you an idiot? Go off to some random house all by yourself. You could have died, jackass! Is that what you want? You want to fucking die?”

Spritz just stared at him, and Richie glared back before shoving at his chest, letting go and standing up. He grabbed Spritz’s gun, checked the safety and threw it to him. The other man caught it and stood up as well.

“I wanted to do something nice,” Spritz said and Richie spun around, glaring at him. “I…I fucked up and told Red that I knew your name. So I…I thought maybe I could come here and get you something…I mean, what’s more classic rock than the Beatles, right?” He punctuated with a chuckle, watching Richie’s eyes.

Richie almost faltered, but only ended up shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself. Spritz didn’t say anything else, which Richie figured was probably a good decision at this point. Richie didn’t know if he could contain himself if Spritz kept talking.

“Let’s go,” Richie said then, resigned, heading for the door. He led the way at a brisk pace, not checking over his shoulder to make sure that the other man was there, following behind. He would be. He better be. When they made it to the front door, Richie turned on him, and Spritz jumped, his eyes wide. Something pulled inside Richie’s chest at the look that he gave him. Fear.

“Don’t do that again,” Richie said, his voice cold, authoritative.

Spritz just stared at him for a moment and eventually nodded.

When they got back to Hader’s place, Spritz clinging to him on the back of the motorcycle as Richie pulled it into the garage. Richie could tell that Spritz was shaken up because his speech about how dangerous it was to ride the motorcycle without helmets had been cut off very short when Richie just narrowed his eyes at him (_okay, okay…it will probably be fine…). _

* * *

Richie was quiet all day, and Eddie was starting to think that he’d majorly fucked up. Something was wrong. Like seriously wrong. But, Richie had scared him before, and that feeling lingered as he considered asking him to talk about it. Despite that feeling, though, Eddie couldn’t help the other emotion that seemed to seep into him from what happened. Richie had actually saved him. And no, he wasn’t happy with the whole damsel-in-distress look that it painted on him, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of relief and gratitude that welled up inside of him.

He couldn’t revel in that feeling though, because there was yet another dark cloud that hung over them that day. Red was gone. Richie hadn’t said anything about it, other than that she’d “gone into town,” but Eddie got the feeling that that was a lie. That feeling was only strengthened when Stutter asked, as the afternoon light started to fade, if they should go and try to find her, and Richie had responded with a hard-edged _no. _

Stutter was restless, pacing in the living room that evening when daylight had passed an a cold dusk settled on the room.

He started, pushing his hands through his hair, pulling on the strands in frantic irritation, “I’m going to g-g-go—”

“Don’t bother. She’s gone,” Richie snapped. He was flipping through a magazine, sitting sprawled out on a chair, his legs thrown up over the armrest.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Stutter asked, his eyes wide.

“I mean, she’s _fucking gone. _She left. Gone. Sayonara, baby.” He said the words with a sick, cold smile on his lips.

Eddie watched the two with a twisting feeling in his stomach. There was just a general feeling of unease in the air, something that made his skin crawl.

“I’m going to find her.”

Richie sat up then, spinning around so that his feet were on the ground, eyes trained on Stutter. “You think she _wants _to be found, _Big Bill?_”

“How do you—”

“Oh, she told me,” Richie said with a shrug. “But you don’t know hers, do you? You know why you don’t know her name? Because she doesn’t want you to know. She doesn’t trust you. She doesn’t trust anyone. Not even me.” He paused then, and his expression changed, grew even darker, more worrisome. “Besides, she’s alone. She’s probably dead already.”

Richie stood up then and walked out of the room without another word. Eddie hesitated a moment before casting a glance at Stutter who looked distraught and confused. “It’s okay,” Eddie said, trying to be reassuring. “I’ll talk to him.”

Eddie went up the stairs and into the master bedroom, to find Richie sitting on the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. He walked over to him, and got down on his knees in front of him, kneeling between his legs. “Hey,” Eddie said quietly, grasping Richie’s hands. He pulled them away from his face, gently. “Do you want to go find her?” he asked, his voice soft.

Richie shook his head, his eyes red as they met Eddie’s. “No. She made her decision.” He reached out and cupped Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie tried to read what was there, in his gaze. Whatever it was, there were layers to it, there was pain there, and a wariness that Eddie didn’t understand.

There was so much to Richie that Eddie felt like he couldn’t understand, but despite that, he’d broken something down in him, something he didn’t know could be broken down. He thought about that night at the motel, what Richie had said to him: _Anyone ever tell you rules are meant to be broken? _And Eddie knew it was crazy, that ultimately, his rules were what kept him alive, but what he didn’t even realize was that he’d been gradually breaking away at one – perhaps the most important one of his rules ever since he’d met Richie.

He trusted him.

He couldn’t really explain why or how he realized that he did, other than an overwhelming feeling of warmth for the other man. But it was also something else. It was the knowledge that not only would he trust Richie to stand by him, but he’d stand by Richie. If Richie wanted to run after Red, he would be there with him. And that was…it was a new feeling.

He leaned forward and kissed Richie’s lips, which he’d done a hundred times before now, but with this, he tried to say more, tried to convey what he was feeling. When he pulled away, he stayed closed, pressing his forehead to the other man’s. “Eddie,” he said quietly, just a breath over his lips.

“Hm?” Richie didn’t even open his eyes, just holding him close.

“My name…it’s Eddie.”

His eyes opened then, gaze connecting with Eddie’s immediately, wide and alarmed. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, not when Richie had been trying to get him to tell him his name for weeks. Not when he’d finally broken down that final barrier between them.

“Rich? You okay?” he asked, when the silence went on for a few seconds too long, Eddie still just brushing his thumb along Richie’s jawbone. He pressed a kiss to his cheek and the corner of his lips, looking for a reaction.

“Yeah, I—” Richie gulped and shook his head. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

* * *

Assuming the battery powered clock in Bill Hader’s bedroom was correct, and Richie didn’t have any real reason to believe that it wasn’t, he was still awake at 2:42 am. Spritz was curled up in a ball on the mattress beside him, his fingers curled into Richie’s shirt, holding him there, his chest moving in slow, even breaths.

Visions of Spritz --_Eddie_unarmed, being attacked by those zombies plagued him. _How could he be so stupid? _All he could think was that Bev was right. You could only really take care of yourself out here. And trying to take care of anyone else was just unnecessary emotional baggage. It was better to get out before it was too late.

He’d already gone too far down the rabbit hole. He realized that the moment that Eddie told him his name, trusting him with that part of himself. It was too late. If he stayed, he was setting himself up for failure.

Yeah. It was for the best to leave. For himself, and for Eddie. He was mature enough to admit that.

Slowly, he reached down and held the other man’s hand, gently urging him to release his grip on his shirt. Eddie let out a sigh in his sleep, but he let go, and Richie let his hand fall down on the mattress between them. He climbed out of the bed and quickly gathered his backpack, shoving clothes inside and making sure he didn’t leave anything.

As he approached the door, he noticed a pad of paper next to the bed and he went back, scrawling out a note. He watched Eddie for a moment, cursing himself when he felt his eyes burning behind his glasses. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of his face, gentle and lingering, before he walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, thank you guys for all the comments you've given me so far. they make me so happy and they inspire me to keep writing, so that's like, the absolute best... <3 
> 
> last chapter will be here soon!
> 
> p.s. I’m really in love with this ‘verse, and I’ve been playing around with the idea of doing a few one shots after I’m done. like Bill and Bev meeting Bill Hader, Richie’s first time with a guy…those kinds of things. just for fun. so let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, here it is! The final chapter, all ~7K words of it. Sorry this took a bit to get out. I wanted it to be really good. But also, full disclosure, I got a bit distracted, because I’m thinking about like three other fics that I want to write. Let’s face it, I’ve just gone fully down the rabbit hole on this fandom and I love these boys with all my heart. So…I’m just going to forget about all of my actual life problems and write fic all the time. 
> 
> But I digress, I finally forced myself to sit down and finish this Zombieland monster that I started (which by the way, is the longest completed work I’ve ever actually written lol, and I think that includes school papers) and tried to make it as good as I could manage. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy!

_Another head hangs lowly_   
_Child is slowly taken_   
_And the violence, caused such silence_   
_Who are we mistaken?_

_But you see, it's not me_   
_It's not my family_   
_In your head, in your head, they are fighting_   
_With their tanks, and their bombs_   
_And their bombs, and their guns_   
_In your head, in your head they are crying_

_In your head, in your head_   
_Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie_   
_What's in your head, in your head_   
_Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie, oh_

-_‘_Zombie,’ The Cranberries

* * *

The bed was cold.

Eddie’s fingers stretched out across an empty mattress, and he shivered, whimpering a bit and rolling over, trying to find the comfort that he’d grown so accustomed to against Richie’s chest. He wasn’t ready to wake up yet.

But the space was empty. Richie wasn’t there. The revelation brought a groan through his chest and he rolled back over. “Richie?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Richie never got up before Eddie, but sometimes he’d go to the restroom around the corner before Eddie woke up. But Eddie was cold and he wanted him back. “Rich, come on, get back here,” he croaked, pressing his face into the pillow. Normally Richie would pop his head around the corner if he heard Eddie stirring, make some stupid quip about Eddie’s bed head, then probably try to initiate some morning sex, which Eddie rarely refused.

Something felt off, though. There was no sound coming from the bathroom, and the sheets next to him didn’t have the lingering warmth of someone gone temporarily. Slowly, he forced himself up, walking to the bathroom. No Richie.

A frown settled onto his features then, and he walked back. That was when he saw the piece of paper. A quickly scrawled little note, sitting on the bedside table:

_Spritz –_

_I’m sorry. I hope you understand. _

_-T _

A hollow pit formed in the pit of his stomach, and an overwhelming urge to vomit struck him with a painful intenstiy. He balled the note up in his palm as he raced to the bathroom, kneeling by the toilet. Nothing came up, but he ended up just kind of rocking there, his eyes squeezed closed, nauseated.

Fuck. _Fuck. _He knew this would happen. That was the worst part. He knew that as soon as he let someone in, decided to trust them, he would get left in the dust. He’d thought Richie was different. Now he understood that that had been a mistake – Richie was just like everyone else. He was the reason that Eddie had spent his entire life not opening himself up, allowing himself to be vulnerable.

But no, he realized. That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that he had been so perfectly fine by himself before he’d met all of these assholes. He’d gotten along, and he hadn’t had any complaints. He’d been fully content in the knowledge that he would likely be alone in the rest of his days surviving in this hell hole. And Richie had come in and demolished that sense of security, taken a goddamn baseball bat to it. Now, he missed him. Like an ache in his chest, he wanted him back. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. He’d felt what it was like to wake up next to someone every morning, to feel someone’s lips in your hair or their fingertips brushing your hip as you passed by each other. Richie had burrowed his way under Eddie’s skin, and formed a hole on his way. Now he was gone and he left that space gaping and so, so cold.

“Fucking _asshole_, dickwad, motherfucker!” Eddie tore up the note aggressively and threw the pieces in the toilet in front of himself, banging his hands on the seat, as tears started to stream down his cheeks in plump, wet lines.

* * *

“Hey.”

The wind whistled through the air, dusk settling on the curve of the horizon. It may have been California, but it was still the middle of November, and Richie’s skin prickled in goosebumps in the nighttime chill. An eerie silence, broken only by his own voice, sat heavily on the flat, abandoned grounds.

Bev was sat on the hood of the SUV, her legs folded up beneath her, her red hair matted and filthy against her scalp, lacking its usual vitality. When she looked up at him, he could see the lines on her face, where her tears had cut through the grime. He walked to her and easily hopped up on the hood of the car next to her, his arm going around her shoulders reflexively.

He didn’t have to ask where they were, because he’d seen the sign as he’d driven the motorcycle in, had known where to find her. This _had _definitely, at one time, been a safe haven, the one that they’d heard about. It was clearly an old amusement park, defunct and rundown. Surrounding them were old rides, a Ferris Wheel and one of those frogger jump rides that Richie recalled from childhood. Old prize booths, the prizes still hanging on hooks, forgotten. Now, though, everything was just a somber echo of what it once was. A fucked up metaphor for most things he supposed. A few, lone-standing skeletons of makeshift shelters where survivors – stragglers had been living. Clearly it hadn’t lasted long.

The stench of zombie killings still hung in the air. If he weren’t so focused on Red, it might have made him sick. She wrapped her arms around him, her head on his chest, finding comfort there. It comforted him as well.

“Thank you,” she said after a long moment. “Thank you for coming…for finding me.”

“Like I could let my number one girl turn into Zombie chum,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her hair.

They sat like that for a long time, and he started to lose track of the moments as they passed.

Eventually, she pulled back, rubbing at her eyes. “Where are they?”

“I left them.”

“What? Why?”

“Because…you were right. I was too close. Spritz was gonna go and get himself bitten. And I just…I had to get out of there, before it happened. I couldn’t deal with it...if he died.”

She didn’t respond, just curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, made a small noise in her throat. He felt like there was something she wasn’t saying. Was that not exactly what she’d told him to do just yesterday?

“He told me his name,” he said slowly. “That was how I knew…that I had to leave. He trusted me too much.”

She groaned and shook her head. “God, you’re dumb.”

He pulled back, looking down at her, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck?”

She sat up properly and rolled her eyes, letting go of him. “He clearly loves you, idiot. And you just up and left.”

“_You _were the one who told me to. You told me I should leave, that I was getting too close. That I was gonna get hurt.”

“Yeah,” she said with a huff. “And all of that was true. But I thought you were smart enough to stay. Or stupid enough at least.”

“You’re literally not making any sense,” he snapped.

“Rich…I got hurt. Losing Ben was the hardest thing I ever had to go through. And I would have done literally anything to get him back. But I wouldn’t have given up a single second of the time that we had together. That…that feeling, that uncompromising, full beautiful feeling, it’s worth the risk.”

“So…what? You were fucking testing me or some shit?”

“No,” she responded slowly. “I…I was upset that you broke our rule, honestly. And I meant what I said. But somehow, I didn’t want you to leave, I guess. I don’t know, it’s complicated…you so obviously were falling in love and…I didn’t want you to lose that, even if I couldn’t stay.”

Richie groaned. “Wow. Well, aren’t you a fucking martyr,” he said and sighed. Despite his words, there wasn’t much malice in his voice. “Either way, I did leave…that’s the end of that.”

She rolled her eyes at him and looked around. “Well, now what?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek in thought, scanning the rides and other attractions. “You know, most of these places used to run on generators, and weren’t connected to the main power system at all,” he said thoughtfully.

“Yeah…are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“That we’re gonna power this mother fucker up? Fuck yeah, I am.”

* * *

“So…what? They’re just gone?”

“Yep. I guess so,” Eddie said, watching Stutter from across the kitchen. The other guy was sat on the kitchen counter, an unreadable expression written on his features. He was wringing his hands in his lap, obviously rapt deep in thought.

Eddie was trying to hold it together, trying his best not to show just how ripped apart inside he was. But it was hard, his chest begged to let out a sob, something, anything to give his feelings a voice. They wanted to be heard. But instead, he just pushed it down, hard, gritted his teeth and ignored it.

“Well, we should go find them.”

“Why?” Eddie met his eyes, his frown deep. “They fucking ditched us. I don’t want to run after them. Not like they gave two shits about us, right?” He paused, taking in a shaky breath. “Actually, man, I’ve been thinking…maybe _we_should go our separate ways…” He trailed off, looking down at the kitchen counter.

Stutter paused then, inspecting Eddie’s face for a long time. “You know, Spritz,” he started, giving a sigh. “I’ve stuck with you this long…because you seem like a decent guy.” He paused and Eddie gulped, trying to figure out where he was headed with this. Ever since he’d met Stutter, there’d been something, something powerful about the way that he spoke, the cadence of his words. It was an interesting, and somehow out-of-place quality for a guy who had a tendency to break out into an actual stutter when he was under pressure or nervous, but it was still there. And it forced Eddie to listen. “You’re pretty good with a gun, and you’re more clever than you let on. You’re annoying as hell, most of the time. With all your rules and your phobias and whatnot. But there’s something about you…or at least, I thought there was.”

Eddie looked down, then, shuffling his feet. He didn’t know how to respond, wasn’t sure that he was supposed to.

“You can run all your life, Spritz, but the question is, do you want to run away from everything? Or _towards _something?”

Eddie felt it, then, and saw it, when he looked at the other man. This was a guy he could trust. And to realize that so soon after the first time he realized it with Richie, there was a part of his brain that told him he was getting soft. But he knew that that wasn’t it. He’d follow this guy into fucking battle if he wanted him to. It was just one of those things you _know. _Like how you _know_that your mother will rush to your side when you fall off your bike as a kid. Or how you _know _the first time you kiss the person you love. It was that kind of feeling.

Suddenly, Stutter was holding his hand out to him and Eddie returned the gesture easily, almost starstruck as he looked up at him. “William Denbrough. Bill for short. Nice to meet you,” Stutter said.

Eddie’s voice caught in his throat and he forced it out. “Eddie,” he returned. “Um…Edward Kaspbrak?”

“Is that a question? Or are you telling me?”

“Eddie fucking Kaspbrak,” he said more firmly.

“There we go. Let’s go get ‘em, Eddie.”

* * *

Eddie forced them to stop at a pharmacy. When he’d started, he was listing off supplies that they might need if Red and Richie were in trouble, but before he’d even gotten to Band-Aids, Stutter -- _Bill_was waving him off. “Okay, okay. Jesus. I saw one on the way in here, had a feeling we might need to know where it is.”

As they were walking back to the car – a sports car that Hader had had in his garage, collecting dust for obvious reasons – Eddie’s arms full of medical supplies, he couldn’t help but ask, “So how the fuck are we gonna find them anyway?” He slammed the car door shut and threw all the junk in the back, before looking over at Bill, his eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity. He’d been operating on the assumption that Bill had some kind of idea where the other two were.

Bill just shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Oh, good. Good. So we’re just gonna drive around in a fucking convertible, hoping that, in all of Los Angeles, somehow we find two people, who could, for all we know, be halfway across the country by now?”

“I don’t need the snark, Kaspbrak. Just trust me on this. We’ll find them.” He started the engine and Eddie grabbed his gun, shooting a zombie that was headed toward them from down the street as Bill started driving. “Nice shot.”

“Thanks.”

As they were driving, the light grew dim, and Eddie was starting to lose hope. That is, until he caught motion out of his peripheral as they were driving on the highway. Bill stopped the car abruptly, leaning over Eddie to look. He cracked an almost hysterical laugh. “Fuck. Eddie, I think we found what we’re looking for,” he said.

Eddie turned his head. Outside of his side, about fifty yards from their car, there was a stampede of zombies, coming from all directions, but headed for the same place – a carnival lit up like the god damn fourth of July. 

Jackpot.

* * *

“So, in hindsight...” 

“We shouldn’t have ridden the fucking rides,” Bev said, sighing. There was a literal army of zombies storming the amusement park as they rode up on the Frogger ride. The entire park had lit up when Richie had turned on the generator, coming to life with a fucking vengeance. And maybe he’d been so excited by it that he’d failed to think about the implications of blasting carnival music with flashing lights just outside of LA in a zombie apocalypse. But hey, nobody’s perfect. 

“Well in my defense—“ 

“Save it, Trashmouth. What the fuck do we—“ The ride dropped them and Bev screamed, as they shot toward the ground. About fifty zombies were crowded around the base of the ride and one grabbed onto her boot as they were catapulted back up. She managed to shoot it in the head and they watched as the lifeless body dropped to the ground. “What the fuck do we do!” she screamed at him and Richie squeezed his eyes closed, taking a deep breath before opening them again. He pointed his gun at the control box and took a moment to focus before pulling the trigger. The box exploded in a flash of sparks as he hit it, shutting down the ride and leaving them hovering about twenty feet above the ground. 

“Well, great, asshole. Now we’re stuck up here,” she said with a groan, having to shout over the chaos below them. The zombies started to climb on top of each other, clawing and snatching at one another like manic barbarians.

“Would you rather be down there?” Richie yelled back, but didn’t get a response as they started to shoot the Zs one by one, most shots successful, but ultimately, there were way more than they could handle. Like fish in a goddamn barrel. 

They’d made it so far, done everything they could to survive. And this was what it came down to? Dying on a fucking carnival ride?

“Rich…this—this might be it.” He looked over to see Bev staring at him, her eyes shimmering with tears.

He reached over and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. He wanted to say something, something reassuring or at the very least, something to help. But he couldn’t think of anything. So instead, he just said, “I love you, Bev. Thanks for putting up with all my bullshit for so long.”

“I did it with pleasure, Richie Tozier.” Through her sniffles, she managed a laugh. “Love you too, asshole.”

They both jerked their heads away as they heard the roaring sound of an engine. Richie squinted to see a green convertible racing into the park, spewing dust behind it.

“Holy fuck—is that…?”

“Hell yeah it is. Our knights in shining armor, Beverly. We might just live.”

* * *

Eddie’s knuckles turned white as he held onto the door, Bill racing into the amusement park, swerving the car around like a madman, running down zombies in his wake. The majority of the zombies, though, weren’t paying them any attention, they were focused on a ride at the far end of the park, a tower-drop ride. If Eddie squinted, he could see—

“That’s them.”

“Fuck.”

Bill hopped over his door once he’d stopped the car, grabbing a blowhorn, that Eddie hadn’t even seen there and starting to blast it. “I’ll create the diversion! You go save those dumbasses!” he yelled, starting to run in the other direction, blasting the horn. The zombies were immediately drawn to the loud noise, a large swarm being redirected to follow Bill. Eddie watched as Bill dove into a prize booth, pulling the gates on the windows closed and beginning to dole out shotgun shells like candy on Halloween.

Eddie snapped back to his own reality just in time to knife a zombie that was inches from taking a chunk out of his wrist. “Motherfucker,” he groaned, yanking his knife back out and beginning to run toward the tower ride, his ammo bags strapped securely to his waist. About twenty feet from the base of the ride, though, he stopped dead in his tracks.

_Rule No. 17: Don’t be a hero. _

He gulped, thick and hot in his throat. 

Zombies were still swarmed around the base of the ride, piling on top of each other, just barely a few inches below Richie’s boot. Richie and Red were both doing what they could to fight off their cannibalistic attackers, but it was clear they were in way over their heads.

A dead-eyed bastard of a zombie approached him, limping on a twisted leg, the bone peeking out from its dilapidated, mottled skin. Eddie had seen his fair share of grotesque zombie bullshit, but this motherfucker was activating Eddie’s gag reflex in all kinds of new ways. The stench that radiated from its skin was horrific, and he plugged his nose reflexively, taking a step backward, his mind wrapped up in a string of _oh fuck _and _no no no not this. _

The zombie before him was literally the puss-oozing, bile-dripping incarnation of disease.

“Eddie!” He looked up to see Richie, waving at him, panicked and frantic. “Eddie, hurry!”

He took a deep breath.

<strike> _Rule No. 17: Don’t be a hero. _</strike>

_Rule No. 17: Be a fucking hero. _

With new found courage, he walked toward the festering, bubonic plague of a zombie, and turned his gun around, before laying into his worst nightmare with all of the aggression and energy he could muster in that moment, smashing the thing’s skull in until he knew for sure it was dead (_Rule No. 2: Double Tap). _

He ran up to the ride, then, shooting the several zombies that were left before pressing the emergency release on the side of the ride, watching as Richie and Red were lowered down to the ground.

Red hopped off first and ran over to him, wrapping him up in her arms and pressing her face into his neck. “Thank you,” she practically cried.

When she pulled away, he was left with Richie staring at him, a shit-eating grin on his face. Like he was fucking born with it. “Well aren’t you just my little white knight,” he said, lightly punching Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie flinched away at the touch and turned in the other direction. He started to run then, back the way he’d come. “We need to help Bill!” he called to them, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were following. They were.

When they got back to the stand where Eddie had left him, though, his heart dropped to his feet. The stand was demolished. Nothing left but the ripped up remains of the metal reinforced walls, torn apart at the seams. A feeling of regret and guilt seeped into every one of his limbs, leaving him breathless and shocked.

“Look!”

Eddie jerked around to see Red pointing at the Ferris Wheel, lit up and spinning – a regular ol’ beacon of hope. Except that Bill was climbing the inner spokes, trying to maintain some distance above several zombies climbing after him, falling on top of each other, but relentless nonetheless.

“You two, go turn off the generator. I’ll handle these Zs,” Red told them, pointing in the direction they needed to go. Richie apparently knew already, though, because when Eddie turned to look, he only just caught a glimpse of Richie before he rounded a corner.

Eddie just about slammed into Richie’s back in a dead stop as he jogged to catch up to him. “What the—”

He cut himself off as he looked up to see Richie pointing straight ahead at the thing that stood between them and the generator room. Eddie instinctively grabbed onto him, his hands curling around Richie’s arm. “Uh, Rich…what the fuck is that?”

Richie’s voice came out weak, barely even audible, but Eddie heard what he said loud and clear. “That’s a motherfuckin’ clown zombie, Eddie.”

The zombie stood taller than any other Eddie thought he’d ever seen, as his eyes scanned up from its curled toes, covered in velvet white, its exaggeratedly frilly costume, complete with bright red pompoms all the way to the white smeared face and the red balloon grasped in its withered fingers. With its almost vampiric teeth, dripping dark black bile from its open mouth, it stared at them, breath curling from its shredded lips in sharp, audible pants.

He could feel Richie’s arm shaking under his touch as the other boy took a step backward, almost knocking Eddie to the ground. Richie’s gun dropped from his grasp and he clambered to pick it up, Eddie kicking at him. “J-just shoot it, Eddie!” he shouted, nudging back at Eddie’s leg.

But Eddie forgot. He forgot how his gun worked, how fucking _words _worked, until the zombie started moving, no _sprinting _toward them, its own weight propelling it forward like a catapult. Eddie grabbed Richie’s shirt without thinking. “_Run!” _he yelled, pulling him up and Richie did, half crawling on the ground, leaving his gun behind as he rushed after Eddie, both frantic as they ran from the monster behind them.

Eddie kept running, his heart beating fast in his chest, until he heard a thump and a scream behind him. He whipped around to see the clown had Richie by the ankle, pulling him in. Richie was screaming and cursing, trying to kick the thing off. “You sloppy fuckin’ bitch!” the curly-haired boy yelled, cementing the heel of his shoe in the clown’s engorged forehead.

Eddie managed to get his shaking hands around the barrel of his gun. But the shot was too risky – he might shoot Richie. So he grabbed the nearest sharp object he could find – a long metal pole from an old fence, and sprinted toward the battling duo, screaming as he lodged the makeshift spear right through the zombie’s skull.

Richie gave an uncharacteristic squeal as the clown fell limp against his body, frantically pushing it off of him. Eddie helped him, shoving the corpse off to the side, before he crawled onto Richie’s lap in a moment of relief and exhilaration, his hands going to bracket his face, he crashed their lips together, pulling away only to tug him into a tight hug, his thighs wrapping around Richie’s waist. “Oh my god,” he breathed, fingers tangled in Richie’s hair, breathing out against his neck. Richie took only a second before reciprocating the affection, his arms going around Eddie just as tightly, holding him close.

They didn’t have long, though, before they heard Red’s scream, echoing through the park behind them. Richie urged him up without hesitation, pulling him toward the generator room. “Come on, hurry.” They made quick work of the switches before going back out, the entire park had gone pitch black and quiet. Almost deadly silent.

They exchanged a glance before Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand, and they creeped forward, in the direction of the Ferris Wheel. It was only then that they saw the flash of red hair sprinting toward them, Red pulling Bill behind her. “To the car! Go!” she shouted, just before the mob of zombies following behind them came into view.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Richie got out before yanking Eddie around as they started sprinting back toward the SUV. Just barely they made it into the car, got it started before zombies were slamming their heads against the windows.

“Drive, Bev!” Richie yelled as Red fumbled with the keys in the ignition, finally getting the car started. They sped off, Eddie’s heart still beating hard in his chest even after they’d long left the perimeter of the park, Richie’s hand finding his comfortingly in the space between them on the seat.

* * *

No one spoke.

They drove for miles before anyone broke the suffocating silence.

Richie cast nervous glances at Eddie-- who had eventually tugged his hand away from his own-- every so often, hoping for something, any kind of indication that things were okay. But Eddie wouldn’t give it to him. He just sat, on the other end of the bench seat, jaw clenched, staring out the window, his mind elsewhere. It was like the moment that they’d shared before after Richie had almost been eaten by the goddamn clown thing had just never happened.

In the front, however, things seemed to be going a bit differently. Bev had Bill’s hand pulled into her lap, mindlessly tracing the lines of his palm. He recognized something in her that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. No, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t what she’d had then, with Ben, but it was a comfort, a kind of relief, the kind of love you feel for someone who you’ve almost lost.

They pulled over finally at another roadside motel, and this time, Richie didn’t even have to suggest the buddy system. As they climbed out, after checking the scene for signs of zombies, Bill looked at Bev who just smiled at him and gave a nod. She went to Eddie then, and gave him another hug, leaning in to his ear, whispering something that Richie couldn’t hear, something that probably wasn’t meant for him. He wanted to know regardless. She pulled away and went to Richie, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Love you, Rich,” she said.

“Even though I’m a stupid piece of shit?”

“Even though you’re a stupid piece of shit.”

“Love you too, Bev.”

Then she disappeared into one of the rooms behind Bill, closing the door behind herself.

Richie glanced at Eddie then, just in time to see the other man walking toward the adjacent room, leaving the door open behind himself. An unspoken invitation.

He accepted, walked in after him, shutting the door. As soon as the door was closed, Eddie’s hands were in his shirt, pushing him roughly down onto the bed. He was just opening his mouth to say something, crack a joke, maybe, when he felt the sharp sting of Eddie’s flat palm against his cheek, the sound reverberating in the empty room.

“Ow! What the fuck?” Richie squeaked, holding his hand up to his cheek, which stung, fresh with the heat of the slap.

“That’s for leaving, asshole!” Eddie was straddling his hips, sitting down, relaxing into a seated position on top of him. Richie’s shirt had ridden up, exposing the strip of skin there above the hem of his pants. He watched Eddie’s eyes, focused intently on that lone sliver of skin as his expression shifted from the angry, vindictive one of before to something else – ice cold panic. His fingers reached out, pushing Richie’s shirt up further. He pressed his fingers down somewhere that Richie couldn’t see and he hissed from the pain.

“Ouch—What…”

“Richie,” Eddie breathed, looking back up, tears brimming in his eyes.

When Richie sat up to get a better look, his own eyes went wide as he saw the gash on his lower stomach. It was shallow, just a scrape, really, but it was fresh, his skin broken raggedly at the edges, the blood only just beginning to clot. He reached down, his own fingers shakily prodding at the wound, trying desperately to remember how he’d gotten it.

But then it clicked, the clown’s talon-like fingers digging roughly into his abdomen when he’d caught him. “It’s just a scratch,” he said, his voice breaking uneasily. “It’s just a scratch, Eddie! Not a bite.” Urgent and desperate, the words broke from his chest. He didn’t know if he was more concerned about reassuring the man on top of him or himself.

“You…you’re sure?” Eddie asked, reaching up to wipe at his own eyes.

Richie nodded, a hand going up to cup Eddie’s cheek. “Yeah, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he said and gave him a smile.

Eddie tugged him roughly into a kiss then, his fingers embedding themselves in Richie’s hair like they needed to be rooted there. He bit Richie’s bottom lip hard, before pulling away. “You better not be, dickwad,” he said.

“No. Never,” Richie told him, cupping his cheek, holding him close. “I’m sorry Eddie. I’m sorry I left. It was stupid…”

“Yeah. You’re pretty fucking stupid.”

“I am. I am stupid. I never claimed not to be,” Richie said and gave him a wide grin. “Did something make you think I didn’t know that?”

Eddie’s eyes rolled hard enough to make a chuckle bubble up in Richie’s chest and he pressed up, delivering kisses restlessly to his cheeks. “You’re so cute,” Richie said, shaking his head. “How, in all of Z-land, did I manage to find the most adorable little clown-zombie slayer?”

“Shut up,” Eddie groaned. “God. You’re obnoxious.” Despite his words, his hands were starting to roam over Richie’s chest, pushing his button down over his shoulders, his fingertips gliding under his tank.

Richie took the hint and sat up between Eddie’s legs to slide his own shirts off, dumping them onto the ground. He reached down and pressed his palm against Eddie’s stomach, where he was warm and inviting, familiar. “I missed you,” he said, watching him, his pupils dilating slightly in anticipation.

“It was like…twenty-four hours,” Eddie informed him with a roll of his eyes. “Not even. More like eighteen.”

“I see you were counting though. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

“Yes you did.”

“You’re walking pretty heavy-footed for someone on such thin ice, buck-o.”

“_Buck-o?” _Richie laughed, sitting up so that Eddie settled himself in his lap. “Did you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth?”

“How does my mother always end up in these conversations? Don’t talk about the woman who gave birth to me when I’m trying to get into your pants.”

“Dirty, _dirty, _Eddie.”

“Shut up.” With that, Eddie tugged his own shirt off, tossing it rather haplessly onto the ground with Richie’s, before cupping the sides of his face and pulling him in for another kiss, the fingertips of one hand brushing down over the side of his neck, to his collarbone, dancing there briefly before continuing their journey downward. “I’m going to fuck you,” he breathed, once his fingers finally, mercilessly reached the top of Richie’s jeans. And yeah. Yeah, okay. Richie wasn’t going to complain about that particular demand.

He nodded eagerly, not wanting to speak, not wanting to break Eddie’s new found confidence. He liked this, the assertion, the way that Eddie’s fingers effortlessly popped open his jeans, pushing them down, exposing him to the cool air, his eyes cast down.

“You want that?” Eddie asked, lifting his eyes to Richie’s, brown irises staring unapologetically at his own.

Richie glanced down at his own already painfully hard cock, and then back up at Eddie. “I, uh, think you can probably answer that one for yourself, buck-o.”

Eddie granted him an amused grin at that just before wrapping his fingers around him, watching Richie’s face as he did. He wasn’t entirely sure what exactly Eddie was looking for, but the suppressed whimper that Richie let out must have been at least close, because as soon as the sound escaped his throat, Eddie was pushing him back against the pillows, kissing down his chest as he continued to relentlessly stroke him. Richie might have been experienced, but he wasn’t fucking inhuman. So he dug his fingers into Eddie’s hair and groaned. “Y-you’re gonna have to stop that if you don’t want me to go off like Mount fuckin’ Vesuvius in like ten seconds.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie muttered, pulling up, looking at him with a horrified look in his eyes. “I really need to find your goddamn off button,” he said.

“Get my lube from my bag, and maybe we can find it together.” Richie wiggled his eyebrows at him and Eddie put a hand to his face, groaning. He stood up anyway, going to Richie’s bag that had been dumped unceremoniously on the ground by the door. He dug around inside, until he came up with a bottle of lube and a condom victoriously, before wiggling out of his own pants and underwear.

Richie watched eagerly and grinned wide, pushing his hips up as Eddie straddled him again. “You’ve got me all excited and anxious, like a girl on prom night.”

Eddie leaned in and shook his head, lips finding his, soft but firm this time, his hand cupping the back of Richie’s neck. He shushed him in a quiet breath as he pulled away, resituating himself between Richie’s legs so that he could tug his pants and boxers off. His fingers traced over the insides of Richie’s thighs, and he had no choice but to listen, falling back against the mattress and shutting his mouth.

He didn’t even notice Eddie getting the lube ready, didn’t know until he felt slick fingers pressing at his hole. “Fuck,” he breathed, looking down at him, before Eddie pushed his finger in at the same time that he moved up over him, placing a hand on the middle of Richie’s chest, pushing him back.

“Stop. Just let me.” He kept his voice soft, and Richie felt an overwhelming bubble of compassion and trust for the other man forming in his chest.

“Okay,” he whispered, nodding.

Eddie returned the nod, and then looked away, slowly working his finger into him. He didn’t wait long before adding a second and a third. The third pulled a hiss from Richie’s mouth and Eddie looked up, a smirk playing on those perfectly curved pink lips, just before he quirked his fingers inside of him causing Richie to release a throaty moan, his hips jerking.

“Wow. You really do like this, don’t you?” Eddie asked, watching him. Richie was starting to wonder if he was actually doing this as a form of punishment.

“Oh yeah, babe. I’m actually—” he cut himself off with another moan as Eddie hit his prostate again, the sound ending in a whimper. “A-actually…a sucker for domination. But we can get into that later. Right now, can…_fuck. _Can you just fuck me already?”

Eddie didn’t seem to need any more encouragement, because he quickly removed his fingers and grabbed the condom, ripping open the silver packet with his teeth. He rolled the little rubber circle down onto his dick, focusing intently on the process before looking back at Richie, the confidence in his eyes faltered and Richie sat up, propping himself up on one arm, the other hand coming up to Eddie’s jaw as he pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Be gentle with me,” he said low, pulling away, his hand trailing down to Eddie’s chest. “Alright, Spritzy? I’m fragile.”

Eddie’s concerned expression dissolved then and he let out a chuckle, pushing Richie back and pulling his legs around his hips as he lined himself up. Slowly, he started to push in, eyes scanning Richie’s face worriedly, and Richie let out an encouraging moan, nodding, his arms coming up to wrap around Eddie’s shoulders, hands going into his hair.

When he bottomed out, Eddie’s head dropped against Richie’s shoulder, his breath hot against his skin.

“You feel good, baby,” Richie breathed, petting his hair, hips rolling once experimentally. He let out a groan. “So big…come on. Fuck me.”

Eddie gave him one long, dark-eyed look before he nodded and started to move, pulling his hips back before pushing back, slamming his hips into Richie’s hard and he gasped, his hand going back to grip the pillow below his head. “Holy—Jesus, mother of Zeus,” Richie managed, broken up inside of his moan.

Eddie’s giggles came out breathy against Richie’s shoulder, his fingers on his hip, nails digging in roughly, leaving small, crescent-shaped indentations in his skin. “You…make it so fucking hard to find this sexy.”

Richie rocked his hips back against Eddie’s, meeting him in the middle, shifting to find just that right angle. “I know I make it _hard_, babe,” he purred, sucking Eddie’s earlobe between his teeth.

He pushed forward relentlessly, motions working into a steady rhythm, and Richie could feel himself falling apart, mewling quietly each time Eddie hit just the right angle inside of him. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck. _I’m gonna come,” he got out, his hand tightening around the slat of the headboard, partially to keep his head from banging against it as Eddie fucked into him.

“Yeah? Want you to…want you to come first, Trashmouth. Say my name.”

“Fuck, Eddie, I—” He broke off with a moan, coming untouched when Eddie pushed against his prostate again, hips jerking up into the thrust.

It didn’t take long before Eddie followed, his hips jerking erratically as he came inside of him, Richie’s name—his _real _name on his lips. When Richie could finally feel his heartbeat coming back down to something normal, Eddie was flopping down against his chest and he wrapped his arms around him easily, enveloping him in his grasp, his lips pressed sweetly to Eddie’s hair.

“Eds?” he breathed, once Eddie had rolled off of him. He didn’t let him go far, though, keeping him close to his chest. 

Eddie took a moment to finally open his eyes again and respond. “What kind of nickname is that?” he asked, watching him. His hand came up to Richie’s face, thumb gently brushing his bottom lip.

Richie smiled against the soft touch and shrugged. “Eddie…Eds. Just rolls of the tongue.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Okay.”

“But yes, what were you going to say?”

“Well, Eds.” Eddie huffed and rolled his eyes, but allowed him to continue. “Bev—”

“Red?”

“Yeah. Red, Bev…whatever.” He’d decided not to care about the name thing anymore. Bev would just have to deal. “Bev says she thinks I’m falling in love with you.”

Eddie stared at him with wide eyes, lips parted in a way that beckoned for Richie to lean in and kiss them again. He held off for the moment, though. “Um,” Eddie finally enunciated. “Do…do _you_think that?”

Richie took a second to debate with himself. Honestly, he hadn’t really thought about the answer to that, which might have been a good thing to do before he brought the topic up. “I think…I think maybe, yeah. At least, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to…what I imagine love is supposed to feel like.”

He said the words like he was stating the objective nutritional information from the back of a cereal box, eyes locked on Eddie’s who just stared blankly back at him. “Are you trying to tell me you love me, Richie?”

Richie paused, but slowly answered, “I think so, yeah. Is that crazy?”

“We almost just got killed by a zombie clown in an abandoned amusement park, and you’re asking me if love is crazy?”

“I am, yeah.”

“No. It’s not crazy.” His eyes shone with adoration and warmth and Richie couldn’t help but to smile back. “If it’s crazy, then…I guess I’m fucking crazy too.”

“Well, maybe we can go crazy together.”

“I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks omg to everyone who has stuck with this to the end :') it was so much fun to write, and I loved reading all of your comments :D it's been so much fun, and writing this really reminded me why I love writing so much! 
> 
> <3 <3 <3 
> 
> p.s. I also want to do some like one shots for this ‘verse and like a whole bunch of ideas for different Reddie shit, so…shameless plug, but if you like my stuff maybe stay tuned? :)


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